


Queue to Suicide

by Soren_Eosin



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Fantasy - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Child Abuse, Cute, Depression, Dominance, Dragonborn (Elder Scrolls), Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Gender Issues, Gender Role Reversal, Hate to Love, Heavy Angst, High Fantasy, Lesbian Character, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, Mental Instability, Monogamy, Older Woman/Younger Man, Original Fiction, POV Multiple, Polyandry, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Tension, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan References, Slow Romance, Strong Female Characters, Strong Woman/Weak Man, Submissive Character, Suicidal Thoughts, Virginity, Virginity Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:28:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28523985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soren_Eosin/pseuds/Soren_Eosin
Summary: What if Talos was the main villain of Skyrim, and the Dovahkiin was just some weak, hopeless kid? (Dovahkiin vs Talos). This story is written, just needs to be posted.Romance: Dovahkiin/Dibella
Relationships: Akatosh/Mara, Ancano/Saadia, Breton Dragonborn/Dibella, Dibella/Breton, Dibella/Lorkhan (Elder Scrolls), Dibella/OC, Dibella/Stendarr, Dibella/Talos, Dibella/Tiber Septim, Gabriella (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s), Male Dragonborn/Dibella, Male V/Serana, Rikke/Tullius (Elder Scrolls), Stesha Jade/Dibella Amore
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	1. Prologue

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

**Explanatory Note:**

**What if** _**Tiber Septim** _ **the Ninth Divine/Emperor was the main** _** villain ** _ **of Skyrim, instead of Alduin? What if the Dragonborn was just some weak kid with self-esteem issues instead of a strong, brave hero? What if Skyrim had been a high fantasy Viking world and not a copy of middle earth and Westeros?**

**This story is told between three perspectives (The Dragonborn primarily, Dibella, and Tiber Septim). This is a tale of love, betrayal, heartbreak, suicidal thoughts, and much more. Romance and payoff will _not_ happen instantly. This story is pre-written by me and is intended to play out like a fantasy novel. This is a brand new take on The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. (More Viking themes, higher fantasy environments, rewritten **_**character-driven**_ **main story, etc.) - In short,** _ **FORGET**_ **most of the Skyrim you remember. So, you can immerse yourself in a higher fantasy, more original spin on it.**

**Reader discretion is advised.** **Mature themes including graphic violence & death, sexual content & rape references, alcohol usage & drug addiction, mental illness & abuse. If you are offended easily or sensitive, don’t read. **

**If you like Attack on Titan, chances are you’ll enjoy this.**

**~ § ó § ò § ~**

She stretched her arm over the bed and stroked his chin, feeling the sharp bristles of dark-stubble there. "Wake up, Tiber." Dibella smiled at him, biting her lip and rolling over to him in the frothy bed, soaked in sunshine. "I love you."

Tiber's eyelash-free eyes peeled open, the vertical cat-like pupils of his fell upon her, lips curling up in a smirk. He scooted over, sliding an arm around her back aggressively and kissing her on the lips, his way of morning greeting. She cupped his neck, drawing a finger over the scar there that rendered her lover mute. His chest pressed into hers as he deepened the expression, his facial hair tickling her lips. She struggled for dominance as he rubbed up against her. The temperature began to feel hot and heavy.

 _We're going to be late if we do this now_ , she groaned internally, shoving Tiber off her with her legs, sighing as they broke apart. _I wish he could speak. I can't believe that damn scar won't heal._

She thought she saw his eyes flash a deeper violet than usual but dismissed it as the lighting of their chambers. The heavenly room was glowing with a luminous pink haze coming from the jubilant sun outside the window. Their bed rested on a circular platform near some gold-encrusted shelves and a violin. - A blush crept onto her cheeks when she saw their clothes and the various bottles of rose-scented oil scattered on the rug.

 _At least the door is locked_. Her shoulders relaxed.

"I'm sorry things didn't work out with you and Kynareth by the way," Dibella mentioned off-handedly as the god of war shuffled out of the sheets, putting on his clothes and armor. "Let me guess - lack of communication?" Dibella chuckled, "I'm surprised your skills in bed didn't make up for it though. That is, you didn't sleep with her too, did you?"

Tiber went slightly pale and hid under his garments as he roped them on. Dibella felt her heart rate quicken she was tightening her fists.

"Tiber, did you?" She all but demanded. She did not like her boys being _tainted_ by other women.

_It makes me less meaningful to them if they've already been with some harlot. Not that Kyne is a harlot..._

Tiber smiled at her, but it didn't quite reach his optics. He shook his head. She rolled her own eyes, taking a deep breath and snapped her fingers, instantly grooming and clothing herself in a flowery, white dress. Her pixie-cut gave an excited bounce at the sensation.

 _Thank you fate for making me a Divine_ , she smirked.

"You sure we can't have some more alone time before we go?" She breathed teasingly into his ear on their way out.

_Some revenge._

Sunlight polished them through the halls of the gilded palace as they progressed. Tiber declined, looking as if he had just missed out on the celebration of a lifetime. He then held his hands to his head, imitating horns and opening his mouth with gnashing teeth, followed by stroking an imaginary beard.

"Is that your Akatosh impression?" Laughed Dibella, running a hand through her freshly cut bangs. "Right, he said we can't miss today's meeting, really important or something."

Tiber nodded, pursing his lips and half-rolling his violet irises.

 _They never seem to dilate, ever_ , she recounted with a grimace. _He must really dislike Akatosh, that's all._

Dibella put herself hand in hand with her new beau, roving up the corridors of the Palace of the Pantheon. Golden walled with high ceilings, hanging with crystal chandeliers, red-velvet rugs draped on the marble flooring, and fancy portraits, flower-filled vases among other decorations on the alcoves to the sides. They came into the central dining chamber that held a large white table in the center with thrones lining the length on each side. Light seamed in from the cosmos outside and a fine assortment of divine foods rested on the counter-top. Soups and soufflés, the freshest baked manna bread without any of that mortal gluten junk, the finest wines, most succulent meats, and crispest vegetables.

Dibella and Tiber sat down along with the others present; all of the Nine were now there. Dibella gulped visibly _. Many of my ex-lovers are here - why I prefer to dine alone._ She scowled, _but since Akatosh insisted..._ Xarxes Arkay, Julianos Syrabane, and Tsun Zenithar all collectively glared at her.

Kynareth Tava eyed Talos with a small frown from diagonally across the surface. She peeped away when Dibella spotted her however. Akatosh Bormahu, who had up until that moment been toying with his vegetables, noticed their arrival and clapped his hands together, then tucked his big, long beard away. "Ah yes, first let us eat then the all of us shall discuss that very important thingamajig I referenced yesterdas! I'm quite famished, you see."

"I don't understand how you can dislike him so much." Dibella nudged Tiber with her elbow. "He's like a father to everyone."

Everyone started cutting into his or her roast or spearing the grilled broccoli. Stendarr Cetacean, who sat next to Dibella, spoke up as she poured herself some wine, "still whoring around, Dibella? Tiber Septim, god of war now, hmm? The others did always say you had a fetish for little Bretons," he grumped, rubbing his thick black beard.

Dibella spared him a cold glower. "Shut up, Stuhn."

"Don't call me that name." Stuhn squinted menacingly at her. "First Lorkhan, Magnus, then my brother, then Julianos, Arkay, Ebonarm, now young Talos, and who knows how many more men."

 _Definitely a few more._ She smiled defiantly.

She took a long sip of red wine. "That was all eons ago. I'd've thought big strong Stendarr would've gotten over it by now. Are you jealous you never got a turn with me? Should I reveal to the others how you fawn over me at night? Do you say my name when you sleep too? Maybe I should ask one of your bedwarmers."

_See how he likes it. Hypocrite._

Stendarr exhaled, "the difference is I don't try to hide my intentions. For example, you and I both know you were only with Arkay to make Magnus jealous after he divorced you."

Dibella blushed, covering her mouth with a free hand. "So, what if I was?" She countered, spearing a rogue strawberry slice on her plate.

"Didn't work out too well though, did it? Magnus fucked off just like Lorkhan." Stendarr took a rambunctious bite off his ox leg.

_Disgusting._

Talos glanced upwards shortly when Stendarr spoke of the trickster, but then went back to carefully spooning his porridge.

"Suppose you don't care though, do you?" Stendarr inspected his beard for any pieces of meat that might've tried to escape his mouth. The copious expression of manliness wasn't that long, barely thicker than his hair which was short and closely-cropped to his scalp.

Dibella swallowed the piece of meat she was chewing on. "Don't patronise me, you've done just as much questionable things as I."

Stendarr grunted, "I suppose you're right. Sorry."

The reason for Stendarr's bipolar change of mood explained itself: Mara Nir had come to sit down next to him. _He fears her_ , Dibella actualized.

"We all know Lorkhan was the worst," Mara chimed in, "Akatosh and I call him _Shor the Whore_ sometimes," the divine goddess snickered. "But still, as Divines, you both ought to strive for better than this childish arguing."

_She heard way more of that conversation than I expected._

"Concurred." Dibella poked a cucumber slice on her plate with a fork. "Lorkhan was definitely the worst, however. He married Kynareth and me both, unapologetically, without either of us aware of the polygamy. As if we were just two other pieces of his property that he could fuck whenever he wanted to without any repercussions, spouting nonsense to his followers that all of it was consensual. - But at least he's dead and gone now."

_Hopefully rotting in the dirt like he belongs. The only thing I regret isn't getting to kill him myself._

Stendarr clenched his jaw beneath his bearded mien but didn't say anything.

Mara nodded with a lour. "You already know that Lorkhan raped me once." She wiped away an inkling tear. "Told his stupid worshippers that I was his concubine. But unlike him, my husband has always remained true and faithful." She looked toward Akatosh, her frown turning upside down.

"I'm sorry you went through that," apologized Dibella. "But you've got Akatosh now and I've got Tiber." Dibella gripped her lover's hand, kissing it.

He half-smiled at her. It did not even reach his nose.

"Tiber!?" Tsun reached around Tiber and poked her on the shoulder with his finger, apparently having heard that last bit. "You call him Tiber!? _Knowing you_ , he must be fucking you real good for you to use that name," he broke out into gaggles, pounding his fist repeatedly on the table.

"Oops." Dibella _accidentally_ magicked her ex-partner's plate off the tabletop. As the Nord bent down to clean up the mess, Dibella whispered in his ear, "a lot better than you did." She gave him a wink when he espied up.

"Now, that's just plain betrayal, Amoré." Tsun shook his head, sitting back up and magically vanishing the rest of the mess.

Tiber threw her a lewd expression.

 _What a little perv._ She coyly smiled back, lightly slapping his cheek.

Soon enough the morning feast ended and the Divines collectively held their breaths to listen to their chief. "Now that we've all been watered and fed, I thought I might begin the discussion that I called you all here for."

"This better be good, father. My wife and I were quite busy and I only came since you insisted," griped Arkay. When he saw Dibella eyeing him he pulled his hood back on.

 _Didn't know he got married._ She looked away from the god of death. _I hope that Tiber will be different from him. Maybe we will get married someday too._

Akatosh smiled at his son. "You shall pay in our next juggling contest, Arkay, my child."

"You're on," the aedra agreed. "I'll be the juggling king, you just wait and see!"

"We can discuss your imaginary titles later, dorky, I-I mean orkey, I mean Arkay." Akatosh's golden gaze then fell onto Tiber who gulped visibly. "Talos, did you enjoy the feast?"

Tiber glanced at Dibella, licking his lips for a moment.

 _Dirty-minded bimbo_ , she repressed the urge to hit him in front of everyone.

"Talos?" Akatosh called out serenely.

"He prefers Tiber." Dibella crossed her arms, looking away from the former mortal.

Tiber nodded, gesturing with his lips it was a fair feast.

"Right, you don't like to eat food harsh on your throat." Akatosh rose from his sapphire-bejeweled throne. "I do hope the porridge was tasty then. It may just be your last." The dragon god began stepping slowly in no particular direction, his long red robes sweeping behind him and his hands clasped together.

"Akatosh, just what's this about?" Stendarr demanded.

Tiber's fingers coiled like a snake around the fork on his plate.

"We've been tricked, deceived, lied too, betrayed, and I dare even say: **_bamboozled_** , my brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, and children!" The golden king pointed a finger to the air in a manner that reverberated with warning. "Tiber; who I've always been suspicious of just so you know, has played us all for fools as he is so adept at doing. You see, Tiber is in truth our missing sibling, he is Lorkhan in disguise."

A gasp sounded around the hall, several servants and lesser spirits dropped whatever they were holding. Dibella's heart stopped and her mouth dropped as she turned to look at the man who had once been her first husband. Tiber was watching Akatosh with glaring violet, burning like coals. She had never seen him so riled before.

A fire sparked in her core and roared, enveloping her in its rage. _Talos... Shor..._

"Tiber! Is this true?" Kynareth had stood up, blinking tears out of her eyes.

Nevertheless, before he could nod or shake his head Dibella lunged at him with a knife. The scrawny manmer dodged her and yanked the knife out of her grip. The fork he had previously held flying into the air. It stabbed Arkay who had risen. Knocked aside Stendarr with a backhand to his beard. The knife he gripped was sent flying. It lodged into Julianos' neck. Tiber sprinted, shoving servants and lesser aedra out of his way.

Dibella shuttled after him and latched onto his arm. Swinging him around and throwing him onto the table. The ninth divine crashed into pots and pans and his feet lay dangling in front of Akatosh, his twin brother.

Julianos pulled the knife from his neck and reprimanded the betrayer, "bloody idiot, what were you hoping to achieve? You can't kill us like mortals. Just cause us a great deal of pain."

"I think you've answered your own question," Mara responded, standing beside them and securing her shawl.

Dibella rounded on them but Akatosh rose his hand to her. "That will be enough, Dibella. He will face justice. I have a plan."

Dibella tried to control her breathing, Kynareth hugged her out of nowhere. "Don't look at him," she whispered.

But she did. Hate incarnated itself inside her at the mere sight of his scrawny, cowardly hide. "YOU USED ME, AGAIN. I'M NOTHING TO YOU, AM I, YOU SNAKE?!" She grabbed a vase of flowers from nearby and chucked them at Tiber. It smashed against his Imperial-Dragon Armour.

Dibella shook Kynareth off her and jumped onto Tiber. She smashed his head repeatedly into table until his divine blood leaked out. Violet, like his snake eyes. It took the collective power of Mara, Kynareth, and Tsun to pull her off him, still shaking with rage.

Arkay stood up amongst the commotion. "Father, I'm leaving. This is more than I can handle for one day." He spared a glance at Tiber, disgust etched over his visage. He left alongside Stendarr...

Before Akatosh could contest, they were gone. Mara came to stand next to him, scrutinising Tiber-Lorkhan with a scowl. She spit uncharacteristically at his feet.

"Tsun, Julianos." Akatosh nodded for them to pick up Tiber.

Julianos and Tsun grabbed Septim and pulled him upright. The traitor opened his mouth; his canines grew into fangs, his tongue sharpened into that of a serpent's, and two blackish-red horns protracted from his temples. However, his violet vertical-pupated eyes along with his high countenance remained the same. The most disturbing part was when his skin lightened a few shades, almost to the color of snow and a long ivory viper with the same violet eyes as he grew from his tailbone; his tail was an actual serpent with human-reptilian skin that matched Tiber's new complexion which appeared _almost_ like scales. Almost.

"We won't kill you, we've tried that before," Akatosh stated, staring down his demon-brother. "However, I knew you'd rise again someday. By me, this is so cliche but yes, I knew you would weasel your way back in eventually. - So, I prepared my last child for you. He will end you. Once you're mortal again. He will find you." Akatosh grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close, never had he been as furious as this in several eras. "The first enemy is the last."

Tiber tilted his head and beamed widely, his teeth shining brightly; his forked snake-tongue came out and licked Akatosh up the bridge of his nose.

"Filth." Akatosh transformed into his aspect of a giant golden dragon and seized Tiber between his teeth, swooshing around in an ethereal wave and soaring out into the sun.

"What?!" Dibella stuttered. "Where's he gone with him?!" She flashed round' to see Akatosh swoop off into the remains of Magnus.

Mara approached her. "He's gone to cast him out into the mortal realm. There Tiber will be weak and the prophesied Last Dragonborn, Akatosh and my final child will defeat him. As you know, aedric gods cannot kill each other by conventional means."

"Your last child? The one you told me about a while ago?" Dibella scratched her head as Kynareth let go of her, the latter was sobbing and Dibella's dress was drenched.

"The very same," Mara reassured.

Soon enough Akatosh flew back in, transforming back into an elf-man with long golden hair and beard. "It is done. I cast him into Skyrim; he will be unable to escape that snowy hell with its tall mountains and numerous monsters guarding it." He ushered closer to the trio of goddesses. "Mara, I flew over High Rock on my way, and I saw him from the sky... our youngest."

At this Julianos reentered the fray, "ooh really? The Last Dragonborn, right? Was he a heroic nord, or perhaps a mighty redguard, a clever imperial maybe?"

Akatosh blushed. "Well, no, actually he was a boy breton, kind of a... what's the mortal term... oh yes, he was what one might say is a _loser_ or a _wimp_. Looks like he's been snorting moon sugar honestly. Thought he was a malnourished teenage girl to be honest. Wouldn't have recognized unless I sensed one of my own kind. Had to do a double take actually."

"You could have gifted those divine powers to anyone... and you chose a breton drug addict?" Kynareth pulled Akatosh's ear. "Tiber will rip him limb from limb! And if it's true you say he looks like a girl, then Tiber may very well rape him too! Remember what he did with that one castrated nedic boy, Huna?!"

"Ow, ow!" Akatosh tried to scuffle out of Kyne's grip, sending her placating hand movements. "In my defence when I gifted him the abilities upon his conception, I didn't know what he would grow up to be. Plus he's only seventeen, plenty of time to turn things around!"

Tsun and Julianos shook their heads. "You're on your own for this one, Akatosh," Tsun admitted. "What's a bloody child going to do? Annoy Shor to death?" Zenithar muttered as he stepped away, " _uuh, Mr. Septim, do you wanna play hide-and-go-seek with me... or maybe build a puzzle._ "

"You never know," Akatosh forewarned. "Tiber might perform an evasive suicide so he doesn't have to jump rope or play tea time with her, I mean him."

"Sorry, I need to heal my neck anyways." Julianos walked off, bumping into Martin Septim by accident, on his way to the hallway.

"Tiber is a mortal again," Akatosh initiated but Kynareth cut him off.

"You are not letting a seventeen year-old junkie take on the most dangerous man in the world by himself! We both know what Lorkhan is capable of. I want you to go down there and help him! You can't kill Tiber but you can at least help the little boy you've endangered!" She admonished.

"I'm coming with you," Dibella decided. "I want revenge."

"I'll tag along too," Mara added.

"I refuse to face him," Kynareth frowned. "I will stay here and convince Tsun and Stendarr to see reason. They still hold some sympathy for Tiber. Also, I will do my best to inform the citizenry of Aetherius."

_Yeah, Stendarr conveniently left._

"Very well. We'll need perhaps a week to prepare our plans and a place to meet as well as some mortals to help us." Akatosh plopped a grape into his mouth that was lying on the table. When Mara sighed at him he said, "what? I'm hungry."

"I can help. My temples are usually already empty since my followers prefer to pray in private." Dibella looked around at her fellow gods. "I'll inform my Sybil to evacuate her synagogue and we can commune there. I'll go a day before to prepare her for your coming."

"Very good, Dibella." Akatosh smiled. "Thank you."

Dibella went into her mind and reached out to her Sybil, who was coincidentally and thankfully located in Skyrim. _Saadia, this is Dibella Amoré speaking to you. Heed my command. In one week's time, I shall arrive on Tamriel to our House of Dibella in the city of where you reside. Inform your Head-Priestess and tell no one else; tell her to take the other priestesses to the closest temple of mine in High Rock, and that I have demanded they move there! Though, you must stay for our arrival._

 _Yes, my Lady. It will be done_ , Saadia Iman replied.

"It's done," Dibella informed them.

"Good." Mara hugged them all.

When they broke away as Kynareth left, Dibella questioned the married couple with a knowing face, "tell me, why _really_ did you choose to infuse the dragon-soul on a breton foetus?"

Akatosh and Mara looked at one another then back at Dibella before responding together, "we think you know." They winked at her.

"Please don't do that."

**~ § ó § ò § ~**

**Optional Read-Me:**

**Disclaimers:**

**-I do not own the rights to Elder Scrolls**

**-Please Keep Death Threats to a minimum, although I enjoy constructive criticism and encourage it.**

**-** _**The Views and Opinions Expressed by my characters are NOT necessarily shared by me.** _

**This story will ignore certain events in the lore or eso. Some lore changes, liberties, simplifications will occur. I am very well versed in lore but I'm keeping it simple on purpose so I don't die from stress and my ocd perfectionism. Skyrim's environment, many characters, story, are rewritten with new appearances and backstories. This is an AU. Set in 4E 201, all the games and historical lore up until that point apply (as much as possible). Skyrim's environments, holds, cities, and much more are all replaced with high fantasy counterparts.**

**Please leave reviews, as anyone who’s ever written anything knows how much they mean.**

Chapter 1: Prologue


	2. Boy Breton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Live to work, and work to live, until you die.

**Chapter 2: Boy Breton**

**A/N: A special thanks to The Blank Canvas, writer of the best fanfiction ever written, A Cadmean Victory, for inspiring me and helping me improve. This story would never have been possible without him. He's one of the best writers alive today. Period. This chapter is dedicated to him.**

**To my Archive readers, the same version of this story is available on Fanfiction net. I’d advise reading there since it doesn’t have that double-spacing issue.**

**~ § ó § ò § ~**

Vague white lines obscured his vision and an odd fuzzy feeling buzzed over his cheek. He yawed deeply, pushing the pale, quilt blanket out of his face and sitting upright. The door to his room burst open just then, revealing one of the chateaux noblemen, his father, Evarié Jade.

“You're finally awake,” announced his father. “Please get ready, Stesha." His father planted a kiss on his forehead. "I love you."

“Mmhmm,” purred Stesha, hardly listening. He yawned again; stretching his arms and relishing in the feeling of his back expand and contract before throwing off the blanket and slithering out of his comfortable bed.

“Shower up and come downstairs. It wouldn’t do good to show up late to the court session again." His dad gently closed the door and left, sighing to himself in the hallway.

_No it wouldn’t_ , thought Stesha, gazing out the window of the Chateau, over the city of Wayrest. _I seriously need to start waking up earlier._

The sun was rising over the limestone, diorite, and granite architecture, lighting up the stonewalls. The city basked in its surrounding countryside. Large colourful trees and the rain-soaked hills of Stormhaven. He could see a few hapless beggars toiling away towards the lower edges of the city, digging for scraps of food in dump piles. _Better them than me._ He could just glimpse out the horizon of the sea, rising under the clouds above Hammerfell, way in the distance.

He exhaled and quickly arranged his bed before drifting into the washroom, attached to the far right side of his chambers. Stesha tossed off his pajamas and allowed the warm water of his dwemer-piped bath to rinse over him, resigning himself to bathe before the no doubt, long and arduous day ahead of him.

_Vinegar too shampoo. Soap for my body. Coconut oil to condition the hair strands and to avoid split ends._

Soon after, he stepped out and changed into some proper attire, haphazardly squeezing the water from the exceedingly long brownish-black tresses of his hair. Once he was done, it bounced back, layering down his shoulders onto his lower chest, as if saying 'good morning'.

_I swear its 'grown' a life of its own._

He pulled open a drawer and out popped a bleached cloth that he polished his teeth with, the silver gleam of his braces brightening ever so slightly. Though the enamel-corrective device did nothing to hide his two front buckteeth.

He threw a black cloak over his shoulders and locked his room, dancing down the corridor, yawning. _Damn, I was hoping that shower would've woken me up._

Stesha passed gold-lined walls with mahogany wallpaper, doted with portraits, descending a set of spiraling grandiose wooden staircases that curved and poured out into the central courtroom. A great chandelier hung over the hollow oval-ringed table that had a somewhat crude fire pit at the center of it. Servants and guards resided by the ornately painted walls filled with art that was quite exquisite, watching over and catering to everyone’s barest whims and needs. Manikins suited in silver lancer suits stocked the perimeter. The ceiling was made of huge tiles of a royal red colour, and bronze partitions to separate the shingles. It really was quite something he had to admit. -- Stesha saw the Queen of Wayrest, Crisantha Barynia, at the forefront on her throne, next to her several male concubines, one of whom was his _fifteen-year-old uncle_ , Pierre Guimard.

_Pierre, you goddamned whore._

He spotted his father at the table and took a seat next to him, reluctantly, considering it was the only seat left. His parent rubbed his head as Stesha poured himself some coffee and surveyed the remaining bits of breakfast for him to eat. "Stop, you're ruining my hair," Stesha complained, patting down his lochs.

“Oh sorry,” whispered his father, retracting his hand. "Wish my hair was as lustrous as yours. It reminds me of your mother, Boadicea's."

"Can you not?" Stesha agitated. "You’ll make me look bad in front of the entire court."

His father drew two fingers over his short-black goatee and nodded his eyes downcast. "Please show some respect, Stesha. At least I saved you a spot."

"But evidently not any breakfast." Stesha's stomach grumbled painfully.

_I'm already a meal away from looking anorexic. All that skooma suppresses the appetite, I suppose._

"Maybe if you woke up earlier, I wouldn’t have to save you any!" His legal guardian reprimanded.

Stesha's mouth curled into a thin line as he scoured the surface for any remainder of food. He spotted some turkey-bacon cleverly tucked away behind a pitcher of juice an arm-length's away and tried to reach it but failed. An imperial who had been observing the affair, gave him a look that plainly suggested she thought he was unworthy of being in a royal court, judging by her disgusted, downturned lips. -- The embarrassment was further exacerbated when his father, who was closer, pulled the bacon over for him.

_I hate this._

Stesha cut into the salvaged meat strips with a knife and fork, grimacing at how cold it tasted, glancing up now and then to see if the dame was still eyeing him with disapproval. Thankfully her attention was stolen by some court papers she began attending too post-haste.

"Young girl, could you appoint me to the library, please?" Asked a baritone from behind Stesha.

Stesha turned around and saw that it was a knight. "Am I a pretty girl?" Stesha batted his eyelashes and held up his conjoined hands dramatically.

"Look, I just need to know where the books are." The silver-armored rook fessed.

Stesha twirled the ends of his hair with his fingers. "And I just need to know if I'm a pretty girl or not?"

_How hard is it to tell a boy from a girl? Bloody idiot._

Thankfully, however, Ancano Charmaine, the Queen’s young Thalmor advisor, began making his routine morning announcement, saving Stesha from any further retorts that'd likely have landed him in the dungeons. "Everyone, I would ask for your silence and attention!” Announced the high elf. "The Queen is ready to address you.”

“Thank you, Ancano,” said Queen Crisantha as she rose.

The alfr bowed and took a seat next to the Queen and one of her gigolos. Stesha noticed Ancano distinctly sneer in his direction before looking away.

_What could I have possibly done to earn such a snobbish demeanor?_

_Probably just existing_ , mentioned a little voice in the back of his mind.

_Fair point. Cannot fault him for that._

"Welcome attendees, residents, members, and subjects of Wayrest’s grand and royal court, to this day, on seventeenth of Last Seed, of the year: Fourth Era, two-hundred and one!” She boomed, standing from her place on the royal silver-plated throne.

_She sure loves to stretch her sentences._ He laid his head idly against his hand with his elbow propped up on the table.

Stesha didn’t listen much to the middle-aged matriarchal monarch's speech, his curiosity was much more piqued by the Queen’s fairly new advisory addition to the court, Ancano. The handsome, well-muscled, and fair-haired altmer glowered at everyone in the hall, like he was imagining different ways to slice them all open, just using his fork and knife. It seemed Stesha's younger uncle, Pierre, held Ancano in similar tastes to himself. As the teenage breton was watching the Thalmor with chocolate-brown eyes.

_Alternatively, Pierre just has the hots for him._ Stesha bit back a giggle, directing his attention back to Barynia.

“So, with that said and done, we will begin today with going over the pleasantries and roles to play for when the Emperor visits us in a month. We must appeal to his better nature. He will be in Skyrim before arriving here!" The once advantageous Queen finished and took her seat back on the throne, between Pierre and Ancano.

_Did she seriously just say we're going to practice for when the Emperor shows up in a month. Holy Akatosh, killeth me already and let thine son ascendeth to the heavens._

"Hey, Stesha."

“Not now, father," he answered with a scowl, picking up a copy of the Knightly-Order Newsletter. A local newspaper company that informed the people of Wayrest of current events. He pretended to read it so his da would shut up. "Wish I had more of a say if I had wanted to do this crap too,” Stesha muttered. "Fuck courtrooms."

“Be thankful you live in one of the finest places on Tamriel," Evarié said. "There are beggars in this city alone; take a look at them and you'll change your tune."

"It's not my fault they're poor," Stesha hissed.

"A rich man owes to the poor all he can do for them. A free man owes to the world's slaves all he can do for them. A healthy man owes to the sick, all that he can do for them," his father repeated some speech he heard somewhere.

"A loyal man owes to his dead wife not to cheat," Stesha sibilated again, venom injecting into every word with virulence.

His father's mouth dropped. "S-stesha, it was one time. Your mother had been gone for ten years, I was weak, foolish... alone."

"I'll never forgive you for that. She's up there in Aetherius waiting for your cowardly hide, and you couldn't control yourself enough to not stick your fucking dick into another woman." Stesha glowered at him. "You're just like your father before you. That's why I have an uncle who's two years younger than I am. Do you know how embarrassing that is? Now he's following in your and grandfather's footsteps. He's gone and made himself a sex toy at fucking fifteen to a woman old enough to be his mother. But I'll never be like you, Pierre, or grandpa Courtlend. I hate all of you and I hope Courtlend is burning in Oblivion."

His father fell silent, gaze shifting.

_Maybe I should just take my bacon and go somewhere else._ He groaned, remembering he was not permitted to leave until the debate was over. _Which will take at least another two hours._ Throwing a glance back at his collation proved there wouldn’t be much to take with him regardless, as it had been cut into barely recognizable fragments of its former tenderloins. -- He saw a nord visitor sitting across from him. _That big oaf probably doesn’t even know how to use a knife and fork._

After the court session had finally ended, Stesha left the chateau fast with a majority of the royal denizens. The bright daylight was an attack on his vision, as he had to struggle to reorient himself among the crowd of people climbing down the stone steps to the city greater. Stesha heaved himself through the intoxicating warmth of others onto the main over-arching deck.

_They're like vultures._

He inhaled the fresh air fruitfully, and relished in its cold feeling as it made it’s descent to his stomach, before puffing out thoroughly and peeling open his eyelids. — Wayrest remained beautiful throughout summer, with magical trees that refused to let their leaves fall, to the succinct silver armor of the members of the various lancer chantries, marshaling through the blacktop.

"How many of our fellow court residents do you think dabble in nefarious under-the-table dealings?" A dunmer known as Idrasa Relas queried curiously from the crowd as Stesha watched the last of the traffic spill out onto the streets.

“Only the Eight know,” his uncle Pierre breathed out. “Let’s go.”

Leaving the palace district and entering the merchants' quarter and shopping center, he weaved his way through the crowd past the red and white striped tents of Cumberland Square, the central marketplace and stalls selling wares of food, armor, and whatnot. Making his way down Wayrest Boulevard and strolling betwixt a bustling plaza, in the direction of the southeast edge of town, where one of the temple of the Divines resided. He could hear the distinct bell and cries of the newspaper seller shouting as he passed the banking district.

“Get your Knightly-Order Newsletter! Just in, Mikhael Karkuxor, author of _Varieties of Faith in the Empire_ and several other editions, found to be performing illegal necromantic rituals to extend his life as well as ingesting in magic mushrooms and writing blasphemy. Sentenced to life in prison in Daggerfall! Read all about it!" Cried the salesperson, waving his arms about and ringing a small bell to rally more attention.

“Well, glad that heretic's gone,” harrumphed an elderly woman nearby. "Mikhael Karkuxor, isn't that the man obsessed with Vivec's spear?"

"The very same," amended the newspaper boy.

A surly argonian who was lurking nearby greased his way in, "but you see, we here at the Black-Horse Courier were present for his imprisonment and have this silly writer's incarceration in graphic detail." The lizard flashed his own scroll at the crowd.

Stesha laughed and shook his head.

"Forget Mikhael Karkuxor and his nonsensical notes. Everyone knows the only writer worth reading from is: Mathias Bradlyn, he can turn a blank canvas into a beautiful panting."

"You see, this boy understands true literature!" Smiled the same elderly woman.

Stesha bowed and walked on as the seller from the Knightly-Order duked it out in the middle of the street with his rival service that invaded from Cyrodill. Throwing a glance at Woodborne Hall, he heard the clanking of armour and the shine of sleek silver as he made progress through the crowded city-streets, passing by the rose-gardened campus of the Wayrest University on his way. _Glad I’m shot of that bloody place._

“Now remember, ladies and gentlemen, it’s one-two, one-two! Yes, strike that poise! Good good. Come on, now!” Clapped the Knight-Commander of the Knights of the Rose as Stesha passed their soot smelling training grounds and blacksmithing tarp.

A few of them raised their visors to scowl at him. _Guess they don’t take well to politicians_ , Stesha glanced down at his vestments. He continued on his way, clearing his mind of the armoured soldiers, passing by an elven priest in the temple district who was performing a sermon in front of the ornate marble Killough of Akatosh, where the Order of the Hour resided.

“Turn away from Talos! Look to Akatosh for guidance!" Catechised the old elf. “You, the bretons of High Rock have to make a choice between the war of bloods in you!” Funnily enough, Stesha saw a few nords standing there, listening in. They made no indication to interject or interrupt. The priest however was eyeing them, sweat perspiring down his brow.

Stesha cackled to himself but kept going, sidelong of a small colosseum where the Hazen Highlanders, a gladiatorial team fought next to a school. Yellow and blue banners hung up around the school grounds and arena. Stesha saw a witch with a pointed hat flying away on a broomstick outside a window, cackling insanely, holding a scroll. A pot of orange gruel cooking in the town-square next to a circular tavern. Stone-tiled with towering structures.

_One feels that one is in a modern city when one visits Wayrest, but there is a magic in the air that could only come from centuries of civilization._

“Is the priest still giving sermons?" A breton woman asked him as a huddle of half-elven friars left the clock-tower library he was near.

“Should be,” he replied, trying to sound casual, but inside his nerves were going crazy, running amuck and yelling, 'abort mission!'

“Why don’t we ever pray to Talos?” Stesha gazed down at a young boy who was asking the question, apparently to the breton woman.

"Your son?" Stesha's voice cracked.

_Why am I the way I am?_

She ducked her head.

_Why didn't I have a mother to look up to?_

“As citizens of the empire, who are as of currently, under the jurisdiction of the Thalmor, it would be forbidden. Also, Tiber Septim is a deity primarily worshipped by the nords and imperials,” the black-haired woman explained to her young son. "Our praise belongs mostly to Akatosh and Julianos, those who will help enhance our elven heritage and thus put us in better standing with the elves."

_Bretonian society was built on the foundation of elven morals._

"Why not just pray to Talos in private, away from the Thalmor?” The boy looked at his mother, an expectant expression etched across his visage. “It can’t hurt,” he added.

“It’s not worth getting caught and risking our lives for,” she dismissed.

"Talos is like the coolest god though," the ignorant kid frowned. "I read stories about how he was a mighty nord warrior, and his heroic deeds. The only god that can relate to us people too!"

Stesha didn't know why he lingered there but he clenched his jaw and crumpled his fingers together. “Doesn’t a god lose their power if they receive no worship? I read somewhere that they can even become mortal again if not enough praise comes their way or if the other gods agree to banish them..."

_Would certainly explain why the Thalmor are trying to eradicate Talos worship. Question would be why?_

“Praise does equate to power for them,” the breton mother turned to regard him. "Something you need, child?" Incontrovertibly, she had forgot Stesha was even there, moreover that she had even asked him a question not one minute ago, it seemed.

_Why am I not surprised?_

"No, I was just curious at what you and your son were discussing; he seems rather intelligent for his age." Stesha blushed uncontrollably when the mother beamed at him.

_She's only smiling because I complimented her son. What other reason would a woman smile at a weak geek with braces and buck teeth for._

"He was raised well, that's why. A mother's love goes a long ways." She kissed her son on the forehead and Stesha felt a spike of envy. "You need not trouble yourself with the affairs of the divines. Talos can take care of himself, I assure you. Now, let us go and pray.” The mother directed herself and her son towards the temple.

"But won't Talos lose his power if the elves keep forcing people to not worship him?" The little kid asked his mother as they walked off, Stesha's blush finally subsiding.

_That was nice_ , he smiled giddily. _I hope I didn't creep her out though. She left rather abruptly, without a goodbye. Gods, I sound like a worrisome teenage girl._

"Get ahold of yourself, Marion!" A father shouted at his daughter from outside their house, hitting her on the head, the girl conformed to him like a marionette puppet.

She gave Stesha a miserable look.

_Glad I'm not her. Sorry, Marion, I can't help you. Your paps would rip me right in half._

"Stand up for yourself once in a while." Stesha eye-rolled.

"Whad you say' boy?" Yelled the fat father at Stesha.

"No hair bands for myself." Stesha faked a smile.

"That's what I thought."

He turned left behind the Cloudy Dregs Inn and dawdled down a low hill behind some of the older neighbourhoods. Grimdale Moor, he found himself in; trekking down a less traveled road, a locale for more nefarious members of society. A few trees were rooted here along with rotten shrubbery and a disregarded pumpkin patch, old houses in disrepair on the sloped community. Gabled roof of the Pirates' Shanty for Reformed Pirates of Society. The only people here were some drunk beggars and loitering wastrels, a mysterious cloaked individual here and there. Shadows concealed the walls and Stesha felt a few goosebumps rise over his body. His skin was pale, and he was sweating, more goose pimples clawing into him as if threatening to tear it apart. Thankfully, only a few reputable Wayresters were present in this far-flung end of town. He wouldn’t want to be seen, for where he was going and what he was about to do.

For a second the sky went black and he looked up out of curiosity. _What in Oblivion?_

The silhouette of what looked to be a dragon was flying out of the sun; it hovered in the sky and shot something out of its mouth. Whatever the thing inside its mouth was flew away, glowing a deathly crimson for a few seconds before cooling and shooting east towards Skyrim.

" ** _HI LOS FUSTIR_**!" Shouted the golden dragon from the sky. The ground shook at its speech and it vibrated through each one of Stesha's bones, like a god speaking to his or her people.

**~ § ó § ò § ~**

**A/N: Please leave a review! They brighten my day and make the writing feel more worth it. Once more, check out DarknessEnthroned/The Blank Canvas!**

Chapter 2: Boy Breton


	3. The Bad Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your worst fears personified.

**Chapter 3: The Bad Man**

**A/N: Here we go, round 3.**

**~ § ó § ò § ~**

_I swear I do not remember taking any skooma._

He stood there for a few seconds, contemplating, as the majestic fire-breathing reptile disappeared into the giant star.

_I didn't see that. I'm just seeing things. That's all._ Though his words from before echoed in his encephalon, _"I read somewhere that they can even become mortal again if not enough praise comes their way or if the other gods agree to banish them..."_

Stesha's mind dwelt on these thoughts as he rounded a bend and came upon his favorite place in the city. The alchemy shop, _Davout Pharmaceuticals_ , tucked away behind an abandoned tower, not far from the outer walls of Wayrest, and Menevia itself.

_And for good reason_ , he grinned, relief overcoming him as he pushed the dingy door aside and entered, twinkling.

The shop was small, with only some exotic and likely illegal substances inlaying the walls; a counter, closet and mossy-oak brown finish being the only other things of memorandum. However, today to his surprise — and alarm, Ancano Charmaine was there as well, talking to J'zargo Chowdru'Mane, the khajiiti store-clerk.

“So, the miserable little boy I saw come in here has already left?" Ancano questioned the lynx, whose view of Stesha was blocked by the tall figure of the elf.

“J'zargo has already told elf," the elsweyrian hissed, before he peaked around Ancano to see who had entered his mysterious shop. A look of panic crossed his feline features when his eyes fell upon Stesha. “Is this the boy you search for?" The beast-mer pointed rather awkwardly.

Ancano fipped around, he paused when he saw Stesha. Stesha could swear he saw a flash of surprise and anger shine before the elf's golden eyes.

_I'm in for an interrogation, right?_

"No," Ancano stated.

Stesha's head jerked back at this. _Thank Mara._

"What are you doing here though, Mister Jade?" Ancano sneered.

Stesha mustered the most childish voice he could, "daddy says he has a booboo on his no-no. I'm being a good courier and fetching him some tonic!"

Ancano shook his head and busted out the door, Stesha barely dodging him as he left.

_Phew. Glad that worked._

"You see this; this is why this one has no friends." J'zargo shook a claw at him.

"I have friends... they just don't know my name, that's all." He turned back to J'zargo at the counter. “What was that all about?”

“Client confidentiality, J'zargo is afraid,” the sneaky cat snickered.

“Mmm, figures.” Stesha pursed his lips. "What've you got today?"

"J'zargo has brewed up something new, straight from the fjords of Atmora!" The beastfolk rifled through a few cupboards until he pulled out a light blue bottle. "Atmoran Ale, blessed by our 'lord and savior', Tiber Septim himself!"

"Atmora?"

"It is just a sham; khajiit called it that to lure stupid Talos obsessed zealots into buying it. It is actually just donkey piss mixed with some sweetener. These people can't tell the difference."

"Yeah, some people are obsessed with Tiber Septim to the point of insanity." Stesha brushed himself off.

Another regular stumbled in just then.

"Aaah, hello, J'zargo welcomes you." The khajiit bowed.

“Right—right, let’s just go. I’m dying for a fix," she jittered.

"Just through the trap-door there please." J'zargo gestured for them to follow him.

Stesha and the girl made their way around the counter, treaded on the heels of J’zargo through a small walk-in closet, and pushed aside some robes and boxes, finding a latch on the floor. The clerk indicated and Stesha traced his finger to a manhole, hidden in the corner of the confined space. The girl climbed down the trapdoor into the sewers of Wayrest.

_The Jewel of the Bay._

Stesha hopped down after her, traversing the well-maintained underground conduit and its curvature. The smell of water mixed with grime permeated from the walls and rushing thoroughfare that dominated the sewer system. It was dim and gray, H2O rushing through the center, with bridges and ladders crossing the streams.

They passed a few necromancers who nodded, holding up fingers to their mouths. "A few law enforcers are by Klythic's Cairn. They're wearing bright armour."

The girl spoke, "thanks for the heads up. Watch out for the crocodiles."

"I saw a mudcrab down here, scuttling about the other day. Horrible creature, stayed clear of it," one necromancer said to the other.

"I saw two skeevers humping; I fear I'll never be the same person again."

_The things that happen in these walls. Gods save us all._

Stesha saw a hollowing circular exit up ahead and veered left, fallowing, a short ways passed until arriving at a brown-palisaded room hidden in the side of the sewers; a hole in the wall or secret chamber called Wayrest Outlaws' Refuge. Filled to the brim with colourful characters. Covered with old wooden supports, and dirt seething through beneath rocky foundations of the buildings above. Many others, their faces hidden by shadows, stirred away on pots of brewing skooma and other liquids. A triple rose banner of Wayrest hung, almost as if to mock the city above. There were also tables with patrons, groups of figures seated hither and thither with cards on the disorderly array of benches, a few empty skooma bottles littered around to really seal in that clandestine atmosphere. Stesha dallied past the familiar bouncer who scowled at him and went into the creepy cavern, paying a till and picking up some skooma and joy snow.

He came to the center of the room, where a makeshift pot was bubbling with a watery-red substance. It smelled of bananas from the jungles of Tenmar, Elsweyr. Stesha licked his lips in anticipation, utterly entranced by the crimson stew. He found himself a deserted corner with ligneous blinds to give him some privacy.

Stesha poured the joy snow onto the coffee table provided and rolled up a paper in the small glass bowl off to the side. He stuck it in his nose and snorted it up, enjoying the coconut redolence that shot through his nasal passages.

_That's the shit_. He sat back and undid a bottle of skooma. _Fruity sensation_ , he tittered at how stupid the words sounded in his head.

"Sorry it took me longer to get here, after we split above ground, I ran into Ancano and he started questioning me about you," he heard one of his fellow druggies say to someone from outside his rudimentary cubicle. It was a dunmer woman from the sound of her.

"No worries, I arrived not long ago as well," another said back. The second voice was very, very familiar. "I thought that was Ancano trailing me; stupid elf has nothing better to do than be suspicious of others, does he?"

Stesha took a long sip of his sleeping tree sap, the taste of sweetness like melted fruit knotted on his tongue and he licked it all up. _Skooma and listening to idiots talk for entertainment. How could this day get any better?_ It softened in his mouth, the aftertaste sweet and sour at the same time. Like raspberries had been mixed with blood. A moment of bliss passed and the world blurred around him in that all too familiar high that the drug gifted. He procured a ladle, scooping up a spoonful of the marvelous-coloured liquid, allowing it to simmer below his tastebuds. Stesha had the look of a raving lunatic painted upon his mug.

"Never mind him. Did you see what happened outside?" The dark elf asked.

"No," the wonted other denied, "but I felt and heard il. What was it?"

"This is going to sound crazy, but I think it was the dragon-god, Akatosh," the she-elf started, evidently grabbing a few playing cards according to the shuffling sound she was producing. "He was an enormous dragon, flew right out of the sun and shot something out of his mouth before flying back in."

_Therefore, I wasn't alone in seeing it. That's good. Or bad._

"You weren't high when you saw this, right?" Stesha could practically hear the grin on the boy's face.

"No, it happened a while before I got to Davout Pharmaceuticals," the Morrowind native went on, "I thought I saw Stesha enter but I can't be sure, might've been a girl."

A sudden gloom pored over Stesha so he downed the rest of the contents of his narcotic. _So, they know me._

"They say the Divines live in Aetherius which is located past Oblivion, through the sun, so I suppose it makes sense," the more recognizable male interjected, taking a swig of a drink, most likely skooma as well.

The tangy sugary scent confirmed Stesha's hypothesis when he whiffed the air.

"But why would they choose now to appear?" The woman chafed her teeth together judging by the ear-splitting noise. "They haven't just flown out of the sun before."

"What was he doing again?" Burped the boy.

"He seemed to be banishing something," the dunmeri responded with a tone of ire.

"Perhaps another god? Maybe Stendarr or Zenithar?" The male added. "They did banish Lorkhan in the Dawn Era, right?"

"Stendarr deserves to be banished because of those goddamned vigilants alone. -- Always pestering people to walk in the light and threatening us not to commune with daedra. Like go fuck off," resounded the woman. At this point Stesha's high was getting to him and he began to feel dizzy, losing track of the chattering around him. "Well whatever, we can discuss this later. You want some more double-distilled, Pierre?"

_Pierre? That asshole is here. No wonder he sounded so familiar._

His grandfather's youngest son, Pierre Guimard, talked, "I think Ancano is on to me. If he catches me on skooma, I could be booted from the castle or blackmailed into something. It wouldn't do well to find out the Queen's favoured concubine is a junkie."

"Fair point," agreed the dunmer who was undoubtedly Idrasa Relas, Pierre's lackey.

_The only grey mer I know who hangs with Pierre is Idrasa._

"Ancano, rather annoying but makes up in how handsome he is," Idrasa murmured aloud. "Objectively speaking, of course. On the other hand, those altmer sure do have some of the oddest names I've ever heard."

"Yeah," Pierre simpered his devilish little titter. "Don't forget those nords either with their hinga dinga durgen or fork-beard bluetooth-son. Something like that."

"At least they don't add _ius_ to the back of everything like the imperials do," Idrasa's smirk was evident from the way she laid out the words. "Quietus Serpentius, Drusilla Vexius. Azura help us."

Stesha began to feel parched again. _Should I risk being seen to procure some more kordir's?_ He hiccuped.

"But hold on, Idrasa," Pierre quaffed in a doozy. "You know my older nephew; he has the dumbest name I've ever heard, Stesha Jade. Sounds like some sort of fairy-princess."

_Ah shit, here we go again._

"I and Alauna think he was castrated at birth. He looks like a flat-chested dyke." Idrasa slapped the table with her hand amongst bouts of howling.

"Could definitely pass for one, you ask me," Pierre guffawed stupidly. "But, why are you calling him that? Aren't you into girls?"

"Yah, but that doesn't mean I can’t make fun of him."

_The afternoon court meeting is going to start I had better go._

Being the idiot he was, Stesha stepped out and the collective stares of Pierre and his companion snapped to him like raccoons for a free parcel of food.

"I can explain." Stesha held up his hands.

Pierre bestowed a free grin. "Hey, sweet chaste, nephew of mine, we'll let you go. But listen, do you think you could be a big boy and deliver this skooma on your way back for your sweet ole uncle who woves you very much?"

"Sure." Stesha seized a random bottle and high-tailed out of there.

He drunkenly climbed the small ladder and back up through the trap-doorway. A pretty redguard woman holding a kitten was waiting at the counter, a look of surprise strained on her face at the sight of him emerging through the closet.

J'zargo's eyes widened briefly. "Sorry, this store is-is members only. J'zargo wonders have you tried Callowen's Chironasium instead, or Calistoga's Chemicals?" He asked the lady.

Stesha snuck around the cat and tiptoed to the door.

The daughter of Hammerfell glanced edgewise. "I was under the impression this store dealt in..." She left the words hanging.

J'zargo nodded, twirling his whiskery moustache from the corner of Stesha's eye. The khajiit opened a drawer and slid out a bottle of Balmora Blue, sliding it across the counter, as the lady handed a coin purse to the cathay.

_She does skooma too?_ His lack of sobriety and teenage hormones were egging him on. _I've never approached a woman before._ She walked past him, offering a small smile as their dark-brown eyes met. Stesha immediately melted into a wobbly-kneed puppet, his face going red and words dying before they even reached his throat.

_No, bad boy! Leave her alone!_ Chastised a motherly intonation. _You belong to someone already._

_That must be the drugs talking_ , Stesha yawned, _ehh, let's be real, why would she go for an underage idiot like me?_ His eyes followed the woman out of the building. _I was judging my father for adultery, but if I keep up this perverted behavior, then I'll end up a hypocrite like him. I have to stop. No more looking at girls with lust. I will never become a whore like him and Pierre._

"Pleasure doing business with you," the Elsweyr native meowed as the redguard left. "Shoo boy," he hissed at Stesha. "You almost gave us away!"

"Alright, kitty, kitty," Stesha's diaphragm spasmed.

"GET THE FUCK OUT!" J'zargo roared like a lion.

"I could do with some tea right about now, my insides need warming up," Stesha murmured, mostly to himself as he exited after the woman.

She departed out the shop and back up the hill towards the inn. _Hope those retards; Pierre and Idrasa don't catch me. Can you imagine what father would say if he caught me here?_ He shortly came upon the dusty and barrel strewn area behind the hotel. He inspected the crates and battered old casks until he found an empty one, stashing the skooma inside it for later. Goosebumps split across his skin and he hurried away, inside the shadows of the walls.

_I should take a detour, in case I might be being followed._

_..._

_Something's very wrong._

He tripped over some thing and scuttled into a smatter of bushes.

_Crud._

A fist hit him square on the jaw. Feet stomped his abdomen in the gloom. A hand pulled him by the hair. Stesha did the only thing he could think of and brought his arms to cover his face, scrunching his knees into himself. More kicks and scuffs. Blood squirted from somewhere.

"Get away from me, I'm a minor," Stesha cried out. "I'M A GUY!"

"We're not here to rape you, moron. You ain't much of a catch. Just teach you a lesson. Who do you think we are? Orcs?" Chortled a similar sounding boy.

"He does look like a girl," said Idrasa. "Such long eyelashes, I'm quite jealous actually."

"Thought you could eavesdrop on us and go tattle to the Queen?" Rang the accented intonation of Pierre from next to her.

"I was just trying to snort some, idiot. Leave me alone," Stesha coughed. He allowed electricity to crackle into his palms.

_Guess those spell books weren't so worthless after all._

"Quick, Pierre, now!"

A kick to the face and he was in Vaermina's domain.

Stesha traveled through a rocky cave, stalagmites and stalactites jutting and spiking from several corners, cute little torch bugs lighting the area with a virescent glow, alleviating some of the eeriness. He made his way through, arriving at a dead end, a smiley face drawn over the cove wall.

A cinnamon roll materialised out of thin air and hopped out at him. "Ta-da!"

"Who are you supposed to be?" Stesha searched it curiously; it had two small doughy legs and arms, a smiling countenance matching the one on the barrier.

"I'm the Sneaky Sweetroll! I'm your best friend!"

"I don't have any friends. Especially ones I can eat," Stesha remonstrated.

"Beware, for I've been sent to tell you a tale!" The dessert item shimmied over to him and took a seat on a rock.

Stesha mirrored it, sitting down across from it. "What now?"

"The story of a Bad Man." Sneaky held up two hands to gesture something horrific but it just came out as cute. It didn't help that she sounded like a little girl.

"Very original title," Stesha commented.

"Once there was a dragon-priest named Miraak Wyrmthorne, who learnt he was the First Dragonborn. The dragon god Akatosh spoke to him, ordering Miraak to join him and sever his allegiances to the corrupt Alduin and his forces. Miraak was confused, for he said: 'I thought you and Alduin were one in the same?'" The Sneakroll continued her tale, "'no', replied Akatosh. 'The Bad Man has lied to his people and turned them from worshiping me to demonising me by praising my firstborn son, who they wrongly think is me. Your job, Miraak is to defeat Alduin and proclaim my lordship.' So, Miraak did as ordered and went to defeat Alduin but the Bad Man appeared to him and the two battled it out."

"Where are you going with this?" Stesha face-palmed himself.

"Shut the fuck up you impatient brat and listen for once in your pampered, privileged life!" Yelled the dessert.

Stesha, taken aback by the rudeness, circled his hands in an egging on motion. "Fine, go on."

"Didn't like that, huh? Being yelled at?" Sneaky murmured.

"Not particularly."

"Now you know how your pa feels."

"That's different," blocked Stesha.

"Now, as I was saying before I was so _rudely_ interrupted," tutted the cinnamon bun much to Stesha's growing distaste. "Miraak and the Bad Man fought but Miraak won, holding his sword to the Evil One's neck. The Bad Man then spoke, saying, 'if you let me go and do not kill Alduin or proclaim Akatosh as your lord, I will pay you in the souls of dragons.' Miraak, enticed by greed and lust, agreed and left, enjoying the souls the Bad Man sent to him."

_Interesting._

"One day however, the Bad Man stopped sending him the souls of his brethren so Miraak returned to his duty in service of Lord Akatosh, and went to kill Alduin. This time though, the Bad Man appeared again and they tussled once more, and this time the Bad Man won, holding his sword to Miraak's neck. Miraak asked why he could not beat the Bad Man considering he had bested him the previous time around. The Bad Man said, 'by accepting my bribe, you've increased my power over you. You've forsaken your Lord in favor of me, the one the elves call, Devil. The one your people call Shor. Yes, I am Lorkhan.'"

"Hmm, I always thought Miraak defeated Alduin with three others." Stesha cupped his chin. "Also, why are you telling me this? These are kids' tales."

"Miraak did defeat Alduin, absorbed his soul and everything. It would not have been possible though without the other three heroes you mentioned. But this _kid's tale_ is also true," warned the animate mix of flour, cream, and sugar. "Also, you're a teenager, in case you haven't noticed by now."

"Who are you? What do want?" Stesha narrowed his eyes at the little thing.

"Oup, that's my cue to leave!" It smacked its hands together and disappeared in a cloud of powdered sugar.

_Amazing._

The cave blackened into a stygian cell of sorts. Stesha found chains roping him to a table. He heard some whispering coming from the corner of the room.

"Aren't you going to eat some? Mmm, tasty bones," mumbled Pierre, sitting across the table from Stesha. His dad's alarmingly young half-brother pushed a bowl toward him full of the blood of snakes. "Bon appétit." Several small vipers swum in the purple ichor.

"Pierre?" Stesha narrowed his eyes at him. "What's going on? Who's that in the corner?"

The shadowy figure in the nook of their prison was completely concealed save for a pair of glowing violet eyes that stared back at Stesha. Its pupils like demonic strips.

"I'm translating for the Bad Man. Since he can't talk," Pierre explained.

Stesha stuck a spoonful in and scooped up the snakes into his mouth, munching and wincing at the writhing, squiggling feeling inside. "Why aren't you eating snakes?" He asked the Evil One.

More whispering.

"I'm eating dragon bones. Yum, tasty, tasty dragon bones,” Pierre translated for the Bad Man. “This will make the Golden King mad, you understand?”

The silhouette of the Bad Man gulped down the whitish, calcified tissue with gluttonous intent.

"So, why am I eating these then?" Stesha gulped up another serpent like it was cyrodiilic spaghetti.

Conspiring in dark corners, they did.

"He says: you and he are supposed to be together forever," Pierre explained.

"I don't want to be with him. I want to be with a mother," Stesha retaliated, shaking his chains. "Tell him he's a retard."

Pierre turned around and the violet eyes shifted their gaze to him. "You said you're a retard."

Whisperings.

"Can a retard do this?" Pierre said for the Bad Man and Stesha saw his shadow wave its arms side to side in some satanic sort of dance. "You try it’s fun."

Stesha shook his head.

Once more did they conspire.

"You're funny, we should be friends," Pierre mediated between them.

"I don't have any friends," Stesha said. "Never did. Well, truth is, no one wants to be my friend."

Stesha's shadow stopped dancing and peered at him from the gloom, the umbra obscured his appearance. It spoke to Pierre who announced the words to Stesha like a puppet, "you're like me then, no one wants to be my friend either."

"I don't think I'm like you," Stesha yawned. "You're of the world."

Pierre dissolved into the nothingness. Soon only Stesha and his shadowy reflection were there, eyes locked on one another, unmoving. The chains that bound Stesha misted into nothing and he stood up carefully, not breaking eye contact with the Bad Man as he himself backed away into the opposite corner. Soon he was protected by gloom, but his vision stayed locked on his adversary's gaze, which cut through the darkness like moonlight.

_Endure for the things that endure._

Stesha heard the scratching of a quill and the ripping of parchment from the Bad Man's domain. A slip of paper slided over to him from across the cell. Stesha picked it up and read it.

_I am closer to you than your own shadow. -The Bad Man._

**~ § ó § ò § ~**

**A/N: Please review! I will give you a metaphorical hug if you do!**

**So many hits on archive, yet no one reviews. Let me know if you guys want more or not lol**

Chapter 3: The Bad Man


	4. Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Lord knows you can't trust your head when you're standing on the edge." -Sia

**Chapter 4: Run**

**A/N: Some of the wording was odd for the previous chapters, admittedly. Also, a warm-hearted thank you to my few reviewers; Mick, Benjamin, Cielo, Matt, and PoeticAnt. (I'm posting across three sites).**

**Fixed the double-spacing on previous chapters and future ones. Changed the title of the story because The Devil's Twin sounds like some shit you'd find on Wattpad.**

**~ § ó § ò § ~**

Stesha felt groggy as he sat upright, rubbing the back of his head. The sun was setting and had settled into an orange glow past the Iliac Bay. Verdant fertile lands, grazing pastures and thin colorful woodlands canvassed the area. He was sitting on a small hill outside Wayrest, near a cave entrance and some rocks.The settlement looked even more impressive here, with its guard towers and battlements, a firm wall as well.

_Pierre and Idrasa somehow smuggled me out here._

He got up and glided down the compact hillside, towards a group of kids his age who were wasting away outside the stone fortifications, plumaged in greenery and torn posts and fences. Falling plumes of harpies’ overhead and blooming chrysanthemums nearby. The familiar ring of a Nirnroot in the remoteness of it all. An orc fisher, a horseman, a river-folk halfling, and a selkie. Pierre and Idrasa were there too. Stesha clenched his fists and controlled his breathing. It was an abandoned abbey called Dreughside, cornered by the large Bjoulsae River, gleaming in the sunset that soaked Wayrest Docks. Stesha looked over and saw the peak of the Adamantine Tower's silver wink at him.

"So, Pierre? What's it like having _alone-time_ with the Queen?" A squalid breton named Alauna wondered out loud. "Does she ride all of the courtesans at once?"

Pierre smoked a puff. "Yeah, it's me and six other dudes trying to get in there. The other guys push me, since they're older. But Queen Crisantha says I'm her favorite. You know how it is."

_I'm going to pretend I did not hear that just now._ Bile made a lurch upwards in his stomach, forcing Stesha to clench his abdomen. _Do you have no shame, Pierre?_

"If she wasn't the Queen, she'd be in jail," laughed Alauna. "So, no, I don't know how it is."

"Wealthy older people have been taking advantage of children since the dawn of time," Pierre sleazed, "I read that the goddess, Dibella was screwed over by Tsun when she was a younger spirit. These things happen; I see no harm in them."

"Don't dishonour Dibella," cried the mermaid who bobbed in the stream. "Her influence is strong in these hills."

An inkling of pity took temporary residence in Stesha's soul, _Pierre must be mentally challenged._

"That, Pierre, is because you're a very special kind of stupid," commentated Idrasa, "a very special kind of stupid, indeed."

The others cawed in hooting laughter.

"Any man would be lucky to be with Dibella, show some respect!" The water maiden wailed again. Stesha very loosely remembered her name being Gwendal Opal.

"Will you shut up?" Stesha hissed. "No one wants to hear your fantasies."

"No you shut up, frail buck-teethed loser! What; you can't find your way back to your rabbit burrow?" Gwendal retorted. "You've probably never even hugged a girl before!"

"He hasn't," Pierre stifled a gag.

Stesha's ears twitched. -- The lot of them began rambling loudly and soon you had to shout to be heard.

"The only reason you think that way, Pierre, is because your da was old enough to be your ma's da too," insulted Alauna Gardner with a sneer.

"Hey, Pierre, you wanna come out here?" Stesha called, forcing a mad grin, hiding a tightly balled fist behind his back, licking his lips in anticipation.

"Enjoy your nap, messy Steshie?" Pierre smirked, taking another smoke as Stesha slowly neared." You've met the boys before, right?" He denoted his posse, none of whom greeted Stesha.

Stesha wiped his mouth of blood but didn't say anything; he barely remembered any of these kids, save Alauna. _Because she's a reporter._ All he could see was Pierre; his tousled light-brown hair and eyes, along with his suntan complexion, mousy visage, and weak physique.

_I can't touch him otherwise his gang will get me._ Stesha gave up, relinquishing his fists. _Even if I outrun them, they'll zap me with their magic or just beat me up another day._

"Pierre, you ever heard of the Bad Man before?" Stesha raised his chin, eyes tight. "Some sort of folktale, can't remember much."

"You listening to scawy stovies now, Stesh? Want uncle woo make woo feel better?" Pierre stuck out his lips poutingly as his brotherhood high-fived him.

_Whatever_ , Stesha waved them off, sitting on a ledge. There were stone-rises on the green grass and a workbench close by.

"Ever tried wrapping the sugar around your arm, Stesha?" Idrasa handed him a knife, some gauze, and a bowl of finely ground moon sugar that had been sitting on a rock next to her. "The high enters much slower and lasts longer."

Stesha took the knife and cut a line in his arm, crimson trickled out, and he then sprinkled some of the white powdery substance on it and wrapped it up. It scorched at first but felt better a bit later, as the high was slowly coursing through him.

Idrasa put out her pipe by burning it into her arm. "I'm going to get going; we've missed the afternoon session. Don't want to be late for tomorrow's. Come on, Pierre."

"Yeah come on, Pierre. Listen to mommy!" Teased Alauna.

"Shut your mouth, or I'll get the Queen to sue your newspapers." Pierre flipped her off, stalking away, Idrasa in-tow.

Stesha shuffled after them, holding his cut arm. _I wish I had a mother._

He wandered along the curving apple orchards and grape vineyards. Brambles and virgules of thick trees, juicy red-apples hanging off them, the smell of cider in the making. A few birds chirping and singing in the branches. The vineyards had purple bobbles of grapes that hung from the tall plants like ringlets of a fair maiden's hair. -- Stesha stole a few of the grapes and chewed on them, mesmerized at how juicy they were.

"Ayy, come back here boy! Stealin' my grapes!" Shouted the cantankerous old farm-hand.

Stesha sprinted through the plantation, aiming for the primary entrance to the city, the plants waving and whipping his way, as if they themselves were trying to prevent him from leaving.

"Gods damn you trouble making whippersnappers!" Yelled the farmer in the distance.

Stesha made it out of the fields and approached the main gate, his thoughts slowly wandering back to the golden dragon.

_I wonder how many people saw him._

As he passed into the metropolitan, dodging a few more patrols of knights, he saw several hunters entering ahead of him, carrying game they had just killed and chatting excitedly amongst themselves.

"Did either of you see that great big beast fly out of the sun?" One of them hauling an elk asked.

"Yeah, that was so bizarre, thought I must've been drunk for a moment," the other answered.

_Hmm... Intriguing, but highly disturbing._

He ignored them and headed back to Wayrest Chateau, narrowly avoiding the _Menevian House of Dibella_ and their pesky priestesses from the Order of the Lily asking for donations. Not to mention the Dibellan witnesses who went door to door, preaching the loving nature of their god.

_This city does have a bit of a population problem._

Soon enough he was back inside, clamouring his way through the age-old athenaeum. The shelves full of books curved and swayed like waves, aureate linings separating the stacks and each book looking as pristine as the next.

_Wouldn't be a surprise if the librarian routinely dusts them. I mean who would want to read some of this junk -- Songs of Pelinal, Shezarr and the Divines, Sithis. Utter trash._

Stesha stopped in the middle of the aisle and took out his pocket-sized journal, reviewing his notes on politics and current policies, checking his facts with a few up to date tomes he quickly perused.

_Don't want to look like an idiot in front of the whole court if I'm called on._

He spotted his father, Evarié in the corner, scouring over a tattered pamphlet. Stesha headed to him and sat down across from the black-haired breton.

"Hello," Evarié orated.

Stesha bemoaned, rubbing his nose before asking, "father, did you see that... that thing in the sky earlier?"

"You were absent for the afternoon set of debates." His father, who had looked up from his court mandate when he arrived, stared at him with the same dark-brown eyes that Stesha had. "Yes, I suppose that dragon; it'll be in the papers tomorrow and the days to come."

"What do you think it is? It flew right out of the sun?" Stesha questioned, pretending he didn't hear his da's former statement.

"In the Imperial City, there's a monument to Akatosh, the Golden Dragon. Maybe it was him again. Though, why? I couldn't tell you," Mr. Jade responded.

"It looked like he was shooting something out of his mouth," mumbled Stesha.

His father briefly scanned his papers. "I'm sorry about this morning, by the way."

Something snapped. "Why did you name me Stesha?" The words flew out of his mouth. "Everyone makes fun of me for looking like a girl and that name isn't helping."

Evarié regarded him beneath a set of thick black brows. "I didn't actually. A redguard priestess of Dibella who was on her way to Skyrim from Hammerfell, stopped by the city and your mother asked her to pray for you during your birth. Since your mother died in the process and I was too distraught, I told the priestess to name you. She said your full name, Stesha Jade meant: _Crowning Jewel._ "

_Yeah... crowning jewel of depression. Spare me this fucking rubbish._

"That's the stupidest shit I've ever heard in my life." Stesha felt bile churn in his stomach. "Who was she?"

"Shazra? Saadia? One of those," his da said. "She must've been in her early twenties at the time." His father then gave him a wider view. "You know you look identical to your mother, save your eyes, those are mine. Her's were the colour of honey, a beautiful amber. She was a breton like us, obviously, but she came from Northpoint."

"What was her occupation?"

"She was the previous Sibyl of Dibella. Not sure what it is specifically, your mother said it was secret, some high priestess who can talk to the goddess. After she died, they found a new one over next door in Skyrim."

_Dibella again._ Stesha suppressed the strong urge to exasperatedly sigh.

Stesha's brow curved like a scimitar. "If I weren't born, she'd still be alive."

"The only child that shouldn't have been born is Pierre," Evarié cleared his throat.

Stesha forced a reluctant smile on his face.

"What happened to Pierre's mom?" Stesha hissed quietly. "After grandma died, Courtlend hooked up with some prostitute."

"Do you have a weird obsession with snakes or something? -- She died in a corsair attack when you were four, might've been too young to remember it." His pap shuffled through his papers, organising them into a neat stack.

"Then Pierre got your father killed on that hunting trip, last year." Stesha got up, shaking his head. "I hate him so much sometimes. Like I just want to... ugh, kill him or something. Then, I also feel bad for him. He's only fifteen."

"Something's always been off about him. He's not right in the head," the nobleman vocalised. "Can't imagine the nature of his job is doing anything positive for him."

"Well, I'm going to go to sleep." Stesha pushed his chair in.

"Stesha."

"What?"

"I'm proud of you for being my son."

_If only literally anyone else held me in the same regard._

Stesha glared at him. "You told me when I was four that my mother was one of the greatest women you knew. You strictly said you would never betray her and made me promise that I'd never betray my future wife either. So... I wonder what changed."

He stomped off to his room. _I wish they’d just aborted me._

The morning that proceeded found Stesha sitting in the Temple of Akatosh, near the back. Something had urged him to come here, he didn't know why. There was a vaulted ceiling, immaculate stained glass windows depicting three forms of their beloved draconic deity. One as a golden elf, his back to a man with a long beard, who's back was also to the elven version, and behind them as a towering protective figure was the deep lustrous-yellow dragon. Several rows of benches, partitioned by a walking aisle covered the main area of the church, and an elevated stage where the priests and Sundas service-choirs preached. The same altmeri priest (likely commissioned by the Thalmor) from the day before was incanting several rites and sprinkling holy water in places. He had royal vestments on and a shaved head.

_I don't know why I came here, I should leave before he eats my ear off with his 'holy wisdom'._

The clergyman as if having heard his thoughts turned to the crowd seated in the temple and clasped his hands together. "Welcome blessed children of Akatosh, I am for those of you who do not know me, his humble priest, Ectheldor Annundâer. Akatosh once said, _whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it._ Now, I'm going to start today's sermon with a little story of one of my ancestors actually. His name was Bretagne Verashesher, one of the early aldmer--ehlnofey in the old days when Lorkhan and Akatosh warred on this earth. Bretagne lived in Skyrim, in a mannish community that stayed outside the war. However, Lorkhan had outlawed worship of our beloved father. So, Bretagne and his family, being faithful to Akatosh, prayed in secret until one day Lorkhan himself found out. Bretagne told his family to run to High Rock and so they did, Lorkhan captured him though and tortured him for weeks on end so that he'd reveal where he sent the other Akatosh worshippers."

_No wonder the altmer hate Lorkhan. Then again, they aren’t exactly saints either._

"Bretagne never gave in, regardless of how much pain the Evil One subjected him too. Eventually Akatosh managed to save him and Bretagne fleed to High Rock where he was free to praise Akatosh as he pleased. This land was bustling with opportunity and Bretagne prayed every day and chased these opportunities for him and his family. Now this is a good thing but over time, Bretagne started breaking routine and skipping his prayers, eventually only worshiping Akatosh on Sundas. Soon enough only on holy days, until he completely stopped praising him. Lorkhan himself couldn't stop this man from praising the Bormahu, but our way of life, our culture could without even trying."

_Well... that is definitely something to chew on. So easy to get wrapped up in day-to-day life and forget to be thankful for what we have, I suppose. Can't imagine Bretagne's lack of courtesy didn't extend to his family either._

Nevertheless, cynicism and morbidity paid him a visit on his way back, _Akatosh doesn't care. Nobody does._ Tears leaked from his eyes, but he rubbed them away. _Why would the gods care about such a lowly sinful boy, such as you? You're less than dirt._

Although, soon enough even the voices in his head were drowned out to the relentless bickering of his fellow politicians.

_Wonder what useless crap we’ll be debating today?_

"What of the city's new zoning ordinances?" Queried Queen Crisantha to her subjects. "Have we arrived at a consensus?"

"Can't believe there’re actually people out there who have to work for a living." Stesha rolled his head back to look at the crystal chandelier that hung as the magnum opus to the expanse.

His father rose a brow at him. "Does this not count as work? We're making laws, representing the people."

"What? Incessantly arguing about politics and pretending we’re making a difference? Mighty fine work we’re doing alright,” he finished sarcastically, with an eye-roll as the cherry on top.

"You'd do well to learn to quit while you're ahead," the old lady next to him admonished, turning back to hear the discussion.

"We proposed a bill to use the new ordinance to build more farms." Idrasa ran a hand over her shoulder-length auburn locks.

“Using the land for more farms will just encourage more people to move here! Wayrest is overpopulated as it is!” Pierre, the literal embodiment of _a contraception failure_ and _waste of space_ , had the gaul to remark. "We ought to build another wall, but this one around all of Stormhaven, and we'll make Daggerfall pay for it! Come on guys, make Wayrest great again!"

"Yeah, no more stupid immigrants to steal our jobs!" Shouted a burly nord visitor.

_I need to learn how to tie a noose._

"And what would you propose then?” Idrasa mocked. “That we build more houses with the extra fields in Stormhaven? More homes won’t do much if there aren’t working people living in them and ready to contribute.”

Pierre crossed his arms and huffed, “no, we'll use the resources to make a wall!"

The Queen slapped him across the face. "Be a good boy, Pierre, behave yourself!"

"Why we are even discussing this truly baffles moi," whimpered his annoying uncle, holding his cheek. Pierre gave Stesha a nasty grin when he looked his way for some reason.

_Is he about to throw another one of his infamous temper tantrums?_

Stesha eyed his eggs with no less degree of consternation than he did to Pierre, poking the yolks, hoping they'd be liquid. They were solid as cakes.

_Skooma beats food anyways._

"Calm down, everyone,” the Steward warned from her seat near the Queen.

“Don’t tell me to calm down, you-you filthy whore!” Pierre screeched, not unlike a banshee, at the Steward.

"Says the guy whose sole purpose in life is to stick his phallus inside the Queen to keep her happy," Idrasa murmured quietly as explosions of laughter erupted across the dining and debate hall. "It is what is is." She shrugged nonchalantly when Pierre gazed at her, eyes fiery at the betrayal.

"It is what it is," the courtroom echoed back in unison.

Stesha stuck his tongue out at his uncle.

"May I suggest a compromise?” Stesha's father suggested calmly.

_Oh merde, here we go._

Half an hour of debate must’ve passed before Stesha nodded off, preemptively reminding the old woman on his other side to wake him when the parley ended. After sleeping for some time, an outraged cry, no doubt due to someone disagreeing with the court politics being discoursed currently, caused him to stir and briefly waken. He glanced upwards from where his face was lying against the table. Thankfully, the servants had taken all the empty dishes and he could lie in peace, unhindered by cutlery and ceramic. Stesha noticed Ancano slip out of the hall when no one was looking. He had been unusually quiet for the duration of today's session.

_What’s he up to?_ Stesha yawned dreamily, before deeming the elven adviser too unimportant to care about and choosing to go back to dreaming about moon sugar and a valkyrie-princess in shining armor, riding in to save him from this conglomerate of Oblivion.

He finally awoke around an hour later, when he knew the morning debates ended. His face fell when he saw it was still going on; though now it was about taxes and thus, Pierre's face looked close to a tomato in redness.

_Dibella_ , he exhaled. A weird warmth tingled around him for a second and he shivered.

_I'm going to pretend that didn't happen_

He noted that Ancano had returned to his place next to the Queen as well. Several Knights of the Rose standing near him.

“Why’s this crap not ended yet?” He gave a pointed look towards his father.

But the Queen answered for him, before Evarié even had the chance to mutter a single phrase, “now, since the discussion has not yet ended,” the breton began. “We will conduct a lightning round for another hour to resolve matters.”

_Lightning round? What the fuck is this?_

“This should be illegal,” Stesha moaned, wishing to be anywhere else.

“However!” Queen Barynia stated rather resolutely. “For those who are not involved, or wish to remove yourselves from the debate room, you may do so now.” Ancano whispered something into her ear. "Uhm... expect the Jades and Miss Relas, please remain."

More than a third of the attendants got up to leave, clearly tired of sitting and complaining. Stesha, feeling puzzled, stayed back with his life-giver.

_Father's a key player but why do they need me?_

Ancano stood up and signalled to the knights. "Bring him out."

A chevalier stumbled into the hall; Stesha clenched his fists tightly when he saw whom the paladin was grasping by the collar. J'zargo.

"Now, cat, point out to the Queen who exactly attends your little skooma club," Ancano instructed. "If you cooperate, you'll be free of incarceration. Just exiled from the city."

"J'zargo will cooperate, khajiit will!" He inclined his head the best he could from within the confines of his headlock. "The dark elf, and uhh the shorter, tanned one, and erm the boy who resembles a girl." J'zargo pointed at Idrasa, Pierre, and then Stesha respectively.

Stesha blinked.

"Are these the skooma peddlers, Ancano?" Barynia rubbed her chin.

"What!? I'm no peddler!" Stesha shook his head. "I just smoke the stuff..." he admitted a little more quietly.

Pierre was shaking his head at him. Stesha suddenly remembered when Pierre asked him to take the bottle of skooma in the sewers, making him complicit in whatever the idiots had orchestrated.

Idrasa began moving ever so slightly closer to Ancano with every passing millisecond.

"You may as well be, skooma is illegal. If you smoke it you are a perpetrator," Ancano reared. "The Thalmor will not allow such narcotics in their new regime!" His face reddened. "Let this be a lesson to any who would dare break the laws of this city, and by extension, the Thalmor, who answer to no one but Akatosh, and Akatosh--".

Idrasa smacked a half-eaten pie in Ancano's face and bolted out of the courtroom, a litany of guardsmen tailing her. The high elf was left to clean the creamy mess off his mug, his eyebrows pressed so far in he seemed as if he was giving birth.

"IT WAS HIM, IT WAS HIM! HE FORCED US TO SELL THE SKOOMA!" Pierre grabbed an apple that a particularly fat noble was about to eat and chucked it at Stesha. It hit Stesha square in the face. "The boy with the long dark hair!"

_So that's what Pierre and Idrasa have been up too... selling skooma and they must've caught Ancano or Crisantha's attention. Knowing how much of an idiot Pierre is, he probably was high in front of the Queen one day._

"I thought that was a girl." The knight holding J'zargo rubbed his helmet, peering at Stesha. "Do you know any men with eyelashes that long?"

_Not this again._

"Uhm, well actually," snorted a nosy scholar, "men have longer eyelashes than women on average. You see, it's due to the testos--"

Ancano seized him by the throat. "Not. Another. Word."

"Just arrest them all!" Shouted Queen Crisantha, her fists clenched so tight they looked fit to rip the skin right off her knuckles.

"Alright, alright. Don't get your knickers in a twist," conceded the knight, approaching Stesha and Pierre. "Mister Guimard, Miss Jade, please come quietly."

Stesha stood up and backed away slowly. Pierre was shuffling off too.

"This is simply paradoxical!" Pierre screeched.

"You're going to the dungeon, where you will await trial. Selling skooma is highly illegal." Ancano finally rid his face of the pastry via a towel one of the servants had given him. Everyone in the court was watching them, even the Queen. Evarié was frozen in shock, and no doubt disappointment.

_This is all Pierre's fault. That dumbass managed to catch Ancano's suspicion and he saw me the other day at J'zargo's shop; now I'm roped into this mess too._

Ancano turned to Stesha's father. "He is your son; correct, Evarié?"

That seemed to shake Stesha's father out of his momentary immobility. He glanced at Stesha and then at Ancano, trembling. Eventually Evarié wagged his head; his eyelids open all the way.

"I wonder." Ancano swallowed. "Would he do the same?"

Stesha studied his father, who was now twiddling his thumbs, his eyes on his lap.

"If you don't come quietly, Stesha Jade. Your father will be imprisoned instead of you," the Queen taunted.

Pierre edged towards Stesha, apparently hoping for some salvation but Stesha punched him as hard as he could in the face. His relative fell back, nose dripping with blood. Memories of the past, all the times Pierre ruined his life resurfaced like the flames of a dragon, rising up in him and spewing out in a crescendo of unbridled fury and hate.

"FUCK YOU PIERRE," Stesha's screams ripped throughout the courtroom like an orchestral symphony, "YOU RUINED EVERYTHING."

He cast an invisibility spell and ran.

"What a drama queen."

**~ § ó § ò § ~**

**A/N: Please review! Special thanks to Father Mike for inspiring the priest's speech! Also, why do college professors have to be more confusing than a rubix cube?**

**So, any guesses on where the story is going?**

Chapter 4: Run


	5. Warrioress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some time in Aetherius.

**Chapter 5: Warrioress**

**A/N: Try listening to peaceful or instrumental music while you read or write. I have a playlist on Spotify called Queue to Suicide. Check it out, made for this story.**

**<https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4zSiOs4keAmfpo6mnJMd1v?si=w7gsn-tqR86sFBNbdQUWeg> **

**~ § ó § ò § ~**

A day had transpired since Tiber's banishment, leaving the Queen of Heaven to float among the clouds in the outlook of Aetherius by herself. Her mind raced and heart throbbed. She tried to focus her attention onto the breathtaking scenery pictured before her: green cliffs, monumental mountains, mystical forests, a towering golden palace filled with the residents of the afterlife, all attending to their new lives contently. She could see children exploring the colourful groves, turning over luminescent rocks. Teenagers were riding on waterfalls, young adults were romantically embracing with their life partners in the coral forestry.

_I deserve better than this feeling._

She took a seat next to some tall flowers that could walk. One particularly large sunflower smiled at her. "Good day, Lady Dibella."

"Good day." She put up a radiant smile.

Her feet dangled off the cliff edge, tracking the traveling rapids below. She ran a hand through her hair, sighing.

_Being alone. I don't enjoy it._ Dibella reminisced to a time when she married her first husband, Lorkhan, who was cheating on Kyne with her at the time, unknown to both of them. _So much time has passed since then, and even now I meant nothing more to that whore than I did then. He used me again. Any woman he's been with is nothing but a commodity to him. An ornament to his fragile masculinity._

No tears threatened to release though; she wasn't naive, young Dibella anymore. _I am second in power only to Akatosh now._

_I keep dragging around what's bringing me down, if I just let go I'd be set free._ She smiled bitterly in memory, lightly squeezing her fingers against her palm. _I've become so used to heartbreak, it no longer affects me._ Her throat hallowed. _Almost as if, I just expect it to happen now._ She picked up a small white flower and twirled it in her hands. The little thing giggled. _What am I doing wrong?_ She tucked the lily into her hair. _Do I keep chasing the wrong men? Is there something wrong with me?_

_Dibella_ , an unfamiliar voice called her name in prayer. A weird warmth tingled around her for a second.

_That's never happened before?_

As if to further accentuate her issues, a shadow lingered by her, taking a seat. It was Stendarr Cetacean. "Hello, Dibella."

"What do you want?"

"What. No hello?" He narrowed his dark eyes with their gleam of mahogany-almond tones, his light-tan complexion shining in the rays of sunlight.

"Weren't you insulting me and calling me a whore not one day ago?" Dibella controlled her breathing, but it came out uneven.

"I apologized, did I not? Look, I talked to the others and they filled me in on some things I was admittedly ignorant on. Lorkhan was my master once; he cut me out just as he did to you. He never revealed who he was to me or Tsun when he was masquerading as Talos." Stendarr gazed out over the horizon, his strong jaw and impressive muscles lighting up as magnus shone even more over them.

_Not exactly my type, a bit too macho and hairy, but still attractive nonetheless_ , she thought in regards to Stendarr. He best resembled an imperial racially; sharp-faced and broadly built like his nordic brother, Tsun Zenithar. Stendarr was a bit taller than she was too, which was saying something because she was five-eleven! _He'd be fun to have a one-night stand with but I don't know if I'd court him._

"Truth be told, it still hurts me. Tiber was everything to Tsun and I once upon a time. I can't bring myself to understand why he does the things he does." Stendarr stroked his burly beard. "I wouldn't go back to him; Akatosh is a far better leader. But, it still bothers me how I was just another tool of Tiber's. I don't think he cares for anyone other than himself anymore." His eyes glistened.

_Well, at least he understands. I'll give him that. More polite than his pig-headed brother, that's for sure._

"I'll forgive you so long as you know where your loyalty lies now," Dibella chuckled, teasing a finger under his chin.

"You know you look so beautiful when you laugh like that." He gaped at her with a slight smile.

Dibella rolled her eyes. "Is that really the best you can do? How unoriginal. You can't woo me like your little girls."

Stendarr looked appalled. "I'm telling the truth! I swear it!"

"Whatever." She waved him off, unimpressed. "I've got to go talk to Akatosh."

"About what?" He pushed a massive hand over his buzzcut.

"The plan to visit Nirn, help end Tiber. It was going to be me, Mara, and Akatosh," she recited, standing up.

He persued her. "Oh right."

"Why'd you leave yesterday by the way?" Dibella crossed her arms as he came to stand by her. "Kynareth said you still held some loyalty to Tiber."

"What does she know?" Stendarr stepped over to a boulder, heaving it off the ground and launching it into the lake below.

_I wonder what else he can do with those hands.._

"I accompanied Tiber in his later years on Nirn, he didn't mind me any attention. I didn't know he was Lorkhan but I felt something, that's why I visited him in the first place. As for why I left, I was under a lot of shock after he was revealed. I mean you understand, you tried to murder him." Stendarr scowled as the giant rock splashed into the body of water.

They walked a ways, passing by gardens of flowers and rosebushes. They smelled strongly of fragrances and Dibella inhaled plentifully. "What does Tiber want anyway?" She drawled, tiredly rotating her neck.

Stendarr stretched his arms above his head, revealing his large lats. _Another sneaky attempt to show off._ She rolled her lip in between her teeth as blood rushed downward.

"You should know, he was your _first_ husband." She didn't like the way he said 'first'.

Dibella inspected her short, clear fingernails. "Believe it or not, but there wasn't a lot of communication in our marriage. Most of the time we were together, he just wanted to sleep with me. Called me his 'bed-wife'." She grit her teeth. "Never understood why until Kynareth and I had a chat; he called her his _chief-wife._ Had his way with Mother Mara too when she was his prisoner and labelled her his _tear-wife,_ because she cried the whole time."

_If we faced off today, I'd destroy him. His power is nothing to mine now. Like to see him try to rape anyone again. I’ll break his face in personally when I find him._

"Once he wanted to make the material world, to surpass Akatosh as a god. Prove men's superiority over elves, you know that. Now, I don't think he cares much for that, though I think he still wants to be a more influential god than any of us. But he's a mortal, so I imagine all he cares about is surviving and using his numbered days to do as much as he can." Stendarr relaxed, before prodding, "so, uhh, Mara may have mentioned the mortal who's supposed to stop Tiber... he has some sort of connection to you?" He attempted to appear casual but she could see right through him.

_He really wants me that badly. Kind of flattering actually._

"I don't care about some idiot toddler I've never even met. It's just some spiel about how he's an option. What they don't realize is that if I wanted a mortal boy, I could have one with the snap of my fingers. Don't put so much stalk into these things, Stendarr." Dibella delivered him a cold glare.

The god of mercy's brows dropped with apparent relief. "That's good; the idea of soulmates is beyond ridiculous if I do say so myself."

The word struck a chord with her. _I've never thought about what it would be like if someone was made specifically for me, to be mine. I guess it wouldn't be too bad so long as they loved me for who I am._

"That doesn't mean I'm not sick of this song and dance though. I've been with all sorts of men, seen nearly every type and I'm tired of it. I just want someone who won't turn their back on me, I want to get married without divorce after eras of this. I'm the Divine of Beauty and Love after all." She cringed at her own words. "I suppose it sounds rather entitled when I say it aloud."

"No, I completely understand. Most of my past relationships haven't fared much better. Tsun and Kyne seem to be getting on lately though." Stendarr paced forward through the garden and she followed.

"That's because you're always with mortal girls who are too young for you, psycho. Don't think I've forgotten about your little bedwarmers either." She punched him a little too hard to be playful.

"There's one other thing, I think I may have an idea why Tiber or Lorkhan is so lustful," Stendarr affixed.

"Because he's a guy?" Dibella smirked knowingly.

_Then again, I am more passionate than most men I've met._

"Not every man is like that." Stendarr shook his head. "No, Tiber's lust is insatiable; no mortal man could possess his drive. He quite literally has the libido of a demon. But the reason is that he's a type of deity made to make the _materialistic_ world and in a sense spread himself. The more women he's with, the more he can extend himself and further extenuate and ensure his existence. That's not why he does it though, that's purely the underlying reason that he's corrupted into a self-pleasuring thing. Most mortal men mate with one partner for life and have children; Tiber's case is a perversion since as Lorkhan he was the first son of Sithis, the seed of chaos and change. That or either Tiber's just a psychopath with an intense fetish, or both which is most probable." Stendarr shrugged.

"That's so dumb though, because one, he barely has any children, none of whom are him. Also, that would just make his children all half-siblings which means if they mate with one another not knowing who their father was, there'll be inbreeding. If anything, the only time polygamy should be allowed is in a woman's case. Most of us last much longer and multiple men with one woman increases chances of fertility, but only one sperm cell can reach the egg." Dibella tapped her foot on the ground.

"Are you stupid? You'd just run into the same sibling problem." Stendarr spit on the ground in disgust.

"Not necessarily, because the one mother would birth her children and therefore be able to raise them together," she countered.

Stendarr continued to look at her like she was mentally insane.

"I'm not saying I condone it, I'm just saying polyandry makes much more sense than polygyny." Dibella stretched both arms across her chest. "But monogamy is best of course for a healthy relationship."

"You do realise no real man would ever agree to something as stupid as polyandry," Stendarr affronted. "Meanwhile history shows several beloved rulers have been famously polygynous."

"Yeah, that's because you and them have this incorrect, archaic idea in your head that women belong to you, like property." Dibella steadied her breathing. "And also why they're all burning in Oblivion right now."

_I won't let him rile me._ A bee and butterfly buzzed past them to nest on a flower in the adjacent garden.

Stendarr clasped his forehead. "Look, so long as you have that idea in your head, you'll never be able to pin down one guy for good. You're in the mentality of going through partners like napkins because of how many you've had; they aren't as precious to you like the first time."

"I find it funny how much of a hypocrite you are." Dibella's muscles tensed. "You and your debauched lemans. Everything your saying applies to men too, especially the likes of you."

_What does he know about me? I'll show him he's wrong. I can hold down a man._

Stendarr was at a loss for words.

"Answer me this; why is it okay if a man whores around but if a woman does she's suddenly a demon?" Dibella clenched her fists.

"Because..." Stendarr stuttered, holding his hands upward awkwardly.

"See! You can't admit it’s bad for men, but you can't get past your own misogyny to say it's okay for women." A vein throbbed in her arms. "You can't say it's bad for men because you do it, but you don't want your women sleeping with other men so you think it's wrong for them; _property mentality_."

"How about, men and women both just have one partner for life?" Announced a familiar voice. "That way no one can be shamed or get hurt." It was Martin Septim, strolling outside the Palace.

"Because that's boring and puritan!" Stendarr and Dibella shouted together at him, stopping to look one another in the eye.

Martin shrugged, a smirk curving up his handsome jaw. "Then have fun with your relationship problems and emotional baggage. -- Hey wait, why don't you two just get together since you seem to agree so much? Stendarr, it's clear you’re just saying all that because you're upset Dibella isn't yours. Dibella, it's obvious to me you only believe that because this is your exacerbated form of revenge on your first husband who was unfaithful to you."

"Shut up, Martin, what do you know?" Dibella's eyes scrutinized the imperial.

"Yeah, at least we don't die in every one of our stage plays." Stendarr readjusted the war-hammer on his back.

"That's because you're not in any stage plays." Martin rotated on his heels.

"Where are you going?" Dibella called to the last Septim.

"To a picnic with my _one_ wife."

"He's married?" Dibella regarded Stendarr.

"Got married here after he died," Stendarr explained. "You ever sleep with him?"

"Not for lack of trying," lamented Dibella. "He's my type too."

"You both need Akatosh," Martin shouted back at them from the distance, still strutting away. "Because you both are honestly reminding me of the Daedra, and you're supposed to be Aedra; the pinnacle of morality."

_I'll sleep with five more men just because he said that._

"Go fuck yourself, Martin!" Dibella yelled.

"I won't, but my _one_ wife will." He flipped them off.

"Aren't you the one who's always saying it's about the quality of love, not quantity?" Stendarr's thinning brows arose.

"Yes, for mortals. But with me, I'm a goddess, in case you haven't noticed, you get both." She winked at him.

"You ever tried women?" Grinned Stendarr.

"No." Dibella's lips curled down. "So, give up whatever fantasy you were dreaming up just now."

"Why do you even like virgin boys?" Stendarr growled.

"Why do you like virgin girls?" Dibella poised her eyebrows.

"Because they haven't been with other men..." he trailed off.

_Property mentality._

"Same reason for me, those boys haven't been with other women." She cleared her throat.

Stendarr fingered his beard. "I guess... we're both hypocrites then... we expect one thing but act oppositely."

"I disagree. My boys appreciate a woman who knows what she's doing." Dibella nudged him in the gut. "I like boys who don't consider me their property, and thus don't mind how many men I've been with. In return they get a woman who's _good at what she does_."

Stendarr exhaled, his boulder shoulders dropping. "I'm sorry. Look, the reason I even care you think this way is because I dismissed all of my uhm... well you know," he admitted. "I just want one partner now, for life."

Dibella was caught off guard by that.

_He means me._

They had arrived at the gargantuan doors to the Palace of the Pantheon with its ornate carvings and tinkering fairies that were buzzing about.

"Give me... just give me some time to think about it, okay?" She peeped up at his hulking figure.

He bowed his head. "I just... like you, and I guess I get angry when I see you with other men."

"If you want any hope of being with me, stop acting like I belong to you, because I don't and I never will. And next time you're flirting with someone else, remember that it pisses me off just like it upsets you when I'm with another man."

He nodded, smiled sadly and entered into the palace, leaving her to her musings. She shook her head, not sure what to make of it.

_Lady Dibella, this is Saadia. I wanted to inform you that the Head Priestess has left and taken the other priestesses with her as you commanded. They will be arriving in Jehanna soon._

_Good. Bless you, Saadia my dear._

_Thank you, bessed maiden_ , replied the Sybil.

"Dibella, how do you do?" Akatosh patted her on the back as she entered the drawing room where the dragon god and his wife, Mara were.

"I've been better." She hugged them each and came to a spot on the table that centred the antechamber. "My temple is all but empty now; it should be safe for us to go there soon."

"Excellent." Mara had a bright expression on her lineament.

The expanse was lit with glowing pixies and red curtains that hung from the walls like decorative drapes. The table in the middle dipped in and was a map overview of Nirn, with animate clouds and everything, essentially just a miniatured view of the continent of Tamriel. Akatosh and Mara were preparing something and going back and forth between the table and a drawer on the side, cross-referencing scrolls, manuscripts and the sort. Dibella took the time to examine her arms. Black and red tattoos covered the length of her forearms and biceps. Depicting a variety of divine things from angel wings to moths to nordic runes, rituals, flowers, hearts, scenery of Aetherius, running down her back all the way to her calves. She regrettably knew she had a few of her earliest lovers names printed in places she'd rather not recall.

_The constant reminders of a younger Dibella's naivety. Like scars. Good reminders of my mistakes._

"I like the flower in your hair. A lily?" Mara asked, her green eyes crinkling kindly. "You used to wear it more, no?"

"Yes." Dibella took a moment to survey the other who had also once been wronged by Lorkhan.

_Perhaps even worse than me._ Mara resembled a bosmer, having dark-tan skin and jet-black hair. A very motherly feeling about her.

"Alrighty then." Akatosh came to stand before them, soul-searching the map of Mundus. "We'll congregate at the temple in Nordenbjörg in a week or so. We'll make ourselves a few human allies who can help us and perhaps locate the skooma-boy, I-I mean Dragonborn, so we can train him. Then we'll find Septim and hopefully the skooma-born will be able to defeat him with our help."

"How come the Dragonborn has to be the one to defeat him?" Dibella scratched her head. "Why can't say one of the other mortals? If this toddler is as incompetent and pathetic as you described, he might as well just kill himself for all the difference it'll make."

"Dibella, be more polite dear." Mara scrunched her forehead.

"The way the prophecy was written in the Elder Scroll that depicts Lorkhan's final downfall when I consulted the writers; it must be the Last Dragonborn. His virgin dragon-blood has to pierce Septim's mixed blood, and they both must die at the same time to ensure they don't absorb the soul of the other. I have made it so if one kills the other; they both will die by implementing a blood-bond in the child's veins, which I also added to Septim when I banished him. They are now connected in a way. But the child's pure blood must rupture Tiber's to destroy him completely," Akatosh described.

"What do you mean by virgin dragon blood?" Dibella folded her arms beneath her chest. She let out a melody of laughter, "what, is he a virgin and we sacrifice him to a volcano to kill the evil whore?"

"That would be hilarious but that's not what I mean. -- Septim is Lorkhan; a Shezarrine, yet also Dragonborn. It's like mixing oil and water. The Last Dragonborn is only Dragonborn, his blood is therefore untainted by the filth of Shor," extrapolated Akatosh. "Lorkhan and I are polar opposites, bitter rivals, we can never be reconciled yet Lorkhan managed to find a way to steal some dragon abilities and here we are. What he doesn't realize is that by doing so, he has inadvertently provided a link to me and thus a way for me to harm him, since all dragonblood originates with me."

A pixie amped up towards the velvet curtains, lighting up the almond-gold undertones to the fabric and creating a kind of candlelight effect.

"The child's pure dragonblood as Dragonborn will destroy Tiber. It will be too much for Tiber to bear. The Dragonborn's death will ensure enough of a sacrifice to make Lorkhan remain dead." Mara pressed a few fingers to her temple. " ** _Forever_** this time. Another dragon couldn't do it because they are too old and set in their ways to understand a plan as this or even have the fortitude to battle Tiber."

"And if the child's blood was impure as well? What would happen then?" Dibella prodded a brow. "Say if, he became a vampire or something? Aligned himself to a daedric prince? Or, say he was somehow a Shezarrine too...?"

Even saying the word trickled nerves up her back, distorting the artistry drawn there.

"I have no idea, something catastrophic maybe. In the case of the latter, we and he would be doomed." Akatosh shrugged, nonchalant. "But his blood is pure. I have no doubt. The only connexion those two have is the poison they share to kill one another that flows in their veins."

"What if either of them is killed before the final confrontation?" Dibella drummed her fingers on the edge of the table.

"Since they both are dragons, they will not be killable by conventional means. They could be resurrected if say one of them is killed in a yeti attack, however significantly weaker. They'd be permanently killed if another dragon or I absorbed their soul. However, when they do die, instead of absorbing their souls, I will send Tiber's soul to an inescapable, perpetual hellish prison and the Dragonborn's to Aetherius." Akatosh flicked the ends of his beard, his gold eyes on the map.

_We're about to train up a kid, just so he can die._

"So, why did you say you also made the Dragonborn for me if he's just going to die?" Dibella took a seat in a chair behind her.

"He'll be yours for eternity in Aetherius, if you want him to be. But he will be unable to be with anyone else romantically, thanks to me, whereas you have free will to be with whomever you please," Mara advised. "He's our gift to you."

"Why not just hand me any virgin than?" Dibella cross-questioned. "They'd be stupid not to remain loyal to a goddess."

"We thought it would mean more if he was someone of extreme importance to us and the universe." Akatosh rubbed his nose. "Again, you don't have to be with him. We won't point him out to you when he's discovered, so you don't feel pressured. But we've made it so he can never be with another woman. He belongs to you. He's essentially your property," the dragon god burst into laughter. "Hippity hoppity, Dragonborn, you are Dibella's property."

Even Dibella erupted into titters at that. "I suppose I'll find some use for him once he's up here. Maybe make him my maid, force him to wear a dress and tell him to cook and clean all day. Though I seriously doubt I will ever be with him romantically. Skooma addled femboys aren't my type."

_Okay well maybe femboys are, but not ones who do skooma. This kid, whoever he is, he's going to become a delusional egomaniac like Tiber once he finds out he's Dragonborn. I have no doubt. He probably thinks doing drugs makes him cool, and likely thinks he's the greatest man alive. I hate boys who think they're better than everyone. This insignificant worm will be no different from any other adventure-crazed "hero". Women will be seen as nothing more than a prize to the likes of him. He doesn't deserve me, he is beneath my notice._

_Is that why you're thinking about him right now_ , Saadia chuckled inside her mind.

_Saadia, get out of my brain! That was none of your business._

"We should also bring along another Divine, in case any complications occur. Preferably someone who knew Tiber personally as well," Mara added.

"I can try and coerce Stendarr into coming." Dibella's shoulders rose and fell like an empire.

"He should do nicely." Smiled Akatosh. "I do say we will need at least one big strong man on this trip."

"He's just so bloody critical of me sometimes." Dibella blew air out her mouth, causing her bangs to furl upwards a tiny bit.

Akatosh pointed a finger in the air, his brows curving.

_He's about to say something sagely, isn't he?_

"The person who offers you constructive criticism is your ally! The person who only flatters you is your enemy."

_There it is_ , Dibella smirked. _However, I suppose he is right. How can any of us hope to improve if we can't take any critique? Constant compliments can make us complacent._

"Yeah, but he's a bit misogynistic." Dibella felt her heart rage.

Akatosh sat down in a chair next to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "You been training? Your deltoids are quite prominent now!" He removed the hand. "Dibella, please understand that I say this without judgment; but promiscuity isn't a good thing. For men and women both."

Dibella sighed, "But, it's not fair. Why do men get congratulated for it?"

"Because they feel unworthy. They have to take great strides to win a woman's heart and so it has unfortunately become a game for them. But just because they think it's right, doesn't mean it is. Mara and I both waited until marriage and our bond is still going strong. I agree with you, women should not be shamed for it. It is most cruel and unfair, but when someone slaps you, it is not always wise to slap back harder, sometimes you have to turn the other cheek, hold your head up high and stride on."

"I guess." She mulled over her tongue. "It would be nice to not have to go through another breakup. But, I'm not courting that boy you made for me; I'm not desperate nor is a mortal worthy of me."

_That maggot doesn't deserve a shred more pride than he likely already has, and is going to get. He probably loves himself more than anything. We'll see how smug he is when he's here doing housework._

"I suggest you teach the men you're concerned for, teach them to be faithful. I also advise you start a relationship with one good man and stay abstinent until marriage. It does not have to be the Dragonborn. He is simply an option." Akatosh nodded, stroking his illustrious golden beard.

"I guess I can give it a try with Stendarr. But I'm not staying abstinent." Dibella pointed her chin in the air.

"Well, I suppose that's better than nothing. You are free to make your own choices after-all and do as you see fit. You will receive no judgment or shame here. I will also have a chat with Stendarr about his polyamory habits and correct his behavior. With him I will be a little more _persuasive_." Akatosh winked at her.

"Good, I'm glad you aren't like him, Father Akatosh." Dibella kissed his hand. "Thank you. This way he and I can stop our bad habit together. And it's not dogmatic forcing only one gender to conform."

"Oh stop." Akatosh waved her off, blushing. Him and Mara snickered then.

"Oh dear, If only the people of Nirn knew their chief deity was a nutcase." Dibella's lips broke into a grin as well.

"We love you, Dibella." Mara hugged her. "You're like a daughter to us."

That led her to Stendarr's chambers; the burly god was doing pull-ups on a bar. His room was a creamy silver, runic deigns carved into the walls with mini coconut trees in pots. A few chairs and a view of the hillside and lake below outside a window.

"Stendarr." She began clutching her arms.

He hopped down and faced her. He was shirtless, sweating a little bit.

_It's like he was expecting me._

"You came to a decision that quickly?"

She avoided his eyes. "We need you to come with us when we go to Nirn."

Stendarr was right in front of her now; she could hear the soul beat from within his massive pectorals. A part of her wanted to touch it but she refrained.

"What's in it for me?" He gave her a sly smile.

"Fine." She tramped her foot on the floor. "I'll give you one chance. You fuck it up, it's your own fault."

_Worst-case scenario, I will at least have had a warm bed in Skyrim._

"I am honored." Stendarr bowed.

"But let's make it very clear, I'm the one in charge in this relationship. If you're looking for a submissive housewife, go bother some underage girl on Nirn!" Dibella stared at him right in the eyes, unflinching, daring him to rebuke.

He held up his hands. "Fair enough, should be a nice change of pace for me anyways. Though I do tend to be a bit aggressive at night, if you catch my drift."

"If you think I'm sleeping with you just because you're my dandy now, you've got another thing coming. I don't trust you nearly enough yet. Now, are you going to come to Nirn with us or not?" She tapped her feet.

"I'll come, of course." Then Stendarr did something that she wasn't expecting.

He kissed her, the curls of his beard spiked against her and her eyes went wide for a moment, unequipped. But eventually she closed them and cupped his scalp, deepening the affectionate gesture.

_I guess he isn't so bad after all._

**~ § ó § ò § ~**

**A/N: *Holds gun* Review or else Dibella will never be with Stesh the meth. >:)**

Chapter 5: Warrioress


	6. Weeping Petals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tired of the fear that you can't control this. Tired of feeling like every next step's hopeless.

**Chapter 6: Weeping Petals**

**A/N: Welcome back, we pick up where we left off with Stesh the meth chef.**

**~ § ó § ò § ~**

_There'll be another day, for now I have to keep my demons at bay. It'll destroy me from the inside if I let it._

_Maybe you should let it._

_Probably I will._

_You should let them kill you._

_I'm too much of a coward for that._

_I hate you._

_I hate me too._

"Where did he go?!" Numerous voices sounded around the courtroom, resonating off his ears.

"Bastard's cast an invisibility spell!" Ancano growled. "Find him, he's still here. Lock all the doors and windows! NOW!" He yelled when the knights didn't do anything.

"Is this really necessary, your elfliness?" Prodded a knight. "We're going through all this trouble for a dumb kid who likes to smoke and sell refined moon-sugar? You sure this doesn't have anything to do with political blackmail?"

Stesha didn't hear the rest of the conversation, he had cast a muffle spell and silently sprinted back to the castle entrance and descended the steps. His surroundings blurred past him as he raced downward.

_Why am I even running? I should've just..._

A hare hopped past him, leading the way ahead.

_Where am I going to go? What am I going to do?_ He improvised rapidly, _well first things first I need to get out of Wayrest before they lock down the gates._

_They won't kill me, they'll just throw me in jail._

Stesha ran as fast as his legs could carry him, springing up a bit when he saw the main gate was cracked open slightly. Alauna Gardner was pushing a cart full of papers and a printing press ahead of him, as guards trailed behind.

"There! That outline!" Shouted one.

Stesha rammed into Alauna with everything he had, sending her to the floor, swinging his fist and flinging a stack of papers into the air to fly back and blind the guards.

"Evasive manoeuvres, gentlemen!" Yelled the commander.

"Ooh, there's a sale on dolls!" Mentioned another. "For uhm, my daughter of course! Hehe."

"You don't have a daughter..." replied a third knight as Stesha left them in his dust.

_Bloody idiots should've closed up everything before trying to arrest me._

He jostled out of the entrance, tiptoeing around a few knights stationed there and recast his spells quickly before jogging off into the eastern wilderness. As he passed by the outlying farms and grazing pastures, he saw the gleam of light over the Iliac Bay in Hammerfell, way off over the gulf. The yellow and green trees that guarded Stormhaven increased in density as he passed into the woodlands of them. His breathing increased in tempo and frequency as he accelerated faster and faster through the bushes. Running and wit were two of few things he'd been talented at.

"Can ya believe it, man?! My sister is pregnant, I'm gonna be a father!" A hunter was saying to his associate deep in the forest before Stesha front-hand back-handed him as he ran past them, still invisible, sending the pair of them into a frenzy. "What in tarnation?! It's them damn redguards! No good ruffians! Grand-mommy always told me to be careful of em'!"

_I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear any of that._

Stesha stopped when he felt he was far enough in that no one would notice him. His heart rate calmed and his breaths steadied, dropping his spells. He sat down on a stump, scrunching into himself by bringing his knees to his face and drawing his cloak over himself. -- The holt was thickly wooded now, green moss and magical plants surrounded him. He checked his belongings in his small shoulder-slung satchel; a notebook and coin-purse were all he had.

_I don't know what to think. Maybe I should've just let Ancano run me through with a sword, save me the trouble. If I go to Hammerfell, the desert will kill me if the corsairs don't. If I head to Skyrim, I'll freeze to death or the monsters will rip me to shreds. Either way I'm not staying here._

"They'll be looking for me now. The whole country will know. Juicy politics like this are bound to make the front page," Stesha sighed, giving up any hope of return. "Gods, I wish I had a mother. She'd know what to do."

Stesha picked himself up and kept progressing through the lemon-lime forested uplands whilst continuing his talk with himself, "truth is, no one cares. That court is full of selfish rabble; each with their own agenda, none of them were my friends. Only the gods know what'll happen to them now." Stesha pushed a few low branches out of the way and dragged himself along. "Maybe it would've been better if I was just never born." He put a finger on his chin. "I guess I'll go to Skyrim, hopefully a monster can just kill me there. Gods know I'm too cowardly to try and kill myself."

He cringed at the painful machinations. _Maybe I ought to just find a quiet place and just... die alone there. It's not like I'll matter to anyone. There'll be no record of me in a hundred years, and I don't deserve to go to Aetherius. The gods would probably be disgusted by the sight of me if they ever saw me. And why would I even care about mattering to people. Chasing fame is a pointless and shameful pursuit._

A white flower petal fell onto his head as if the tree above him had shed a tear, he disappeared into the glossy greenery and overgrown nature. His mind plunging into darkness...

A day had passed and Stesha had finally made it to the city of Evermore, mostly unscathed. Having trudged through the turbulent flood plains, black wastes, vampire infested ruins of Wind Keep, all of which was contained in the Fiefdom of Gavaudon.Crossing into Bangkorai from the Bjoulsae Bridge. _The invisibility spell, thank the gods I learned it. One of the only useful things I learnt at that stupid university._ He didn't dare go into the city, instead dumping himself into a hay pile tucked away in an old farmhouse just outside. When he was sure no one would bother him, he drew his dark cloak over himself and passed out...

He saw a woman, no -- goddess, dressed in a white floral gown with blonde-hair and eyes as clear and full of life as geysers. She was nothing short of an angel. Stesha squirmed in his sleep at the sight of her, reaching out with one hand like the hopeless fool he was. She laughed at something and strolled away into a bedroom, a shadow with gleaming violet eyes followed her in. There she laid down on her stomach, de-robing herself and engaging in a consummate sexual embrace with what looked like a demonic man. The weird thing about this man was that... he had horns and a snake for a tail. Stesha felt his spine shiver and tingle at the hungry look on his face as he plunged into her backside. She had bliss on her features, biting her lip and gripping the demon's palms so tightly they turned red.

_You deserve better than him._ Stesha choked in his slumber, tossing for a place to hide from this terrifying, bad man.

Then the scene changed and Stesha saw the same blonde woman crying because she walked in on the Bad Man who was now in a similar embrace with a different woman. The blonde woman ran away, tears shining down her face. She ran into the arms of a man and woman who looked very kind, like they were her parents or something.

"Are you okay?" Stesha asked her but she couldn't hear him.

_I hope she's alright._

"Dibella, dear, what's wrong?" The kind man asked. He appeared to be a golden king.

"Akatosh, it's Lorkhan! He never told me he was also married to Kynareth," Dibella cried. "This whole time he's been married to us both without either of us knowing."

"Shor the whore," Akatosh made light of the situation.

"He's taken advantage of me as well, when I was his prisoner. Those foolish nords of his actually believe me to be his wife too," the motherly elven woman said.

_Mara._

_Maybe I should start praying to Dibella? I've just never had much of a reason too before._

The scenery shifted and Stesha sensed a great deal of time had passed since the first scene. He saw the goddess, Dibella, sitting on a bed by herself. She looked older now, about thirty in mortal terms. Her hair was much shorter, though it suited her defined face. She also had many artistic tattoos inked across her arms and legs, probably more but she was clothed everywhere else.

Stesha blushed, his knees quivering and arms tinkling like noodles.

Akatosh, who now had grown a beard to match his hair, came in with Mara. They sat down on either side of Dibella.

"Is everything alright?" Mara hugged Dibella tenderly.

Dibella didn't say anything, she just closed her eyes.

"The others don't understand your importance," Akatosh consoled her. "They might bastardise what you are, but we will not."

"We've come to tell you something," Mara said. "We wanted you to find out for yourself and didn't want to make you feel confined so we never said but..."

"What?" Dibella rose a prominent brow.

"We wanted to ask, what are your preferences?" Akatosh pried.

"Don't pity me, I don't need you to make a man for me!" Dibella glared daggers at them. "I can get by on my own."

"Of course, we don't doubt that. But, would it be so bad? We all know there is no such thing as soulmates, but we've never tried out the idea. If it doesn't work out, then it doesn't work out," Akatosh stated, glimpsing at Mara.

Dibella flexed and stretched her bicep.

"An expendable experiment is all he will be. Though if he wounds me like the others, I'll destroy him." Dibella tightened her hands. "Why not just hand me any mortal then?"

"Because he's also going to be our child," Akatosh confessed. "Figuratively speaking. He is not actually our son, but he has the blood of dragons, so he is still considered a child of mine."

"He's a dragon?" Dibella's eye twitched.

"Only in blood and spirit. Though will be a mortal in appearance," Mara explained. "We were going to offer him as a bride to you. Untouched by any other."

Dibella rubbed her teeth together in thought. "Well, I suppose you don't have much control over who he'll become. He should have free will. Physically, I prefer someone feminine, submissive to my will. Bretons are mostly ickle, that could work."

"Really?" Akatosh stroked his beard. "I wouldn't have guessed that. Your previous partners have been mostly different types."

"Variety is the spice of life." She cracked a smile. "But, you said this boy will be untouched by any other? How?"

_She's clearly been emotionally abused._

"If he takes interest in anyone growing up, I'll admonish him mentally or circumstantiate things so he can never be with her," Mara shrugged.

"Not to mention dragons have no need to reproduce, so he's not likely to find anyone attractive in the first place," Akatosh chortled lightly.

"Snakes have a high inclination to reproduce." Dibella blew out a stream of air through her nose. Stesha got the sense she was thinking of Lorkhan. "They have a very high sense."

_Who is this last dragon person? I pity the fool who has to keep her happy. Good luck with that, mister dragon, whoever you are._

He woke up with a jolt, clenching his throat and sliding back against the barn wood. A lamb and a fluffy white bunny were sniffing him. He sat upright, rubbing his head and thus dishevelling some of his locks by accident. _What the hell was I dreaming about?_ He shook his face and leaned back, moaning painfully a bit. The rabbit next to him put its head against his leg as though his thigh were a pillow.

"You need something?" Stesha's head throbbed, his quadriceps dead, but the sight of the innocent little creature made him smile. The lamb however licked his face. "I don't suppose you could get me a cup of coffee, could you?"

The lamb baa'd in response and set off, turning around and marching out of the small farmhouse.

_Well, I didn't expect it to understand me._ A cursory inspection of the barn showed nothing of note other than empty stables and piles of hay, a family of chickens nesting in one corner.

The bunny however was now crawling up Stesha's chest and he looked down to see why: a few pallid flower petals had fallen onto his shoulders and the rabbit was trying to eat them. Stesha handed them carelessly to the furry creature.

_How did those even get there? There's no flowers in here._

The hare chewed the petals up toothily, its nose twitching and sniffing. Its front teeth didn't look too different from Stesha's enlarged pair.

_Maybe we are related_ , he smirked.

"You shall henceforth be known as Sir Fufinius von Hare!" Stesha proclaimed. "Fufi for short." The rabbit just watched him like he wasn't right in the head, still chewing.

He yawned loudly as the lamb came back. To his surprise it had a steaming cup of coffee in its mouth. Stesha took it and patted the baby sheep on its fluffy crown.

"Did you steal this from your owners?" Stesha curved an eyebrow.

The lamb looked at the floor with a guilty expression etched on its maw before baaing in a low tone.

"I appreciate it but don't get yourself in trouble because of me." Stesha sipped the coffee, feeling the bitter taste followed by warmth wake up his insides as it poured down his oesophagus. "Wow, this is really good. Thank you."

He sat there for a while, drinking his caffeine and petting the animals, contemplating his next move _, if I can find a caravan or carriage to Jehanna, I may have a chance of sneaking out of High Rock into the Dragontail Mountains._ He drew his tongue over his teeth, wiping away the stains of dark coffee. His teeth felt warm against his tongue, the scent of java-beans tickling his nostrils.

"I'll have to make my way through the city," he whispered. Stesha replaced the bunny off himself much to its surprise as it began hopping up and down. "Sorry friends, I've got to go. I appreciate your help though."

He set down the empty mug and pulled his hood far over himself, lurking out of the dilapidated outbuilding in the direction of Evermore. -- A beautiful girl with bleached-blonde pigtails pushed him out of the way as she heaved a group of buckets over the cabbage patches.

"Out of my way, stupid boy!" She wailed.

Stesha hopped the fence, his feet sinking into the wet due of the grass. _Why is everyone so mean to me?_

The region of Mournoth where the city resided was thickly forested by the Viridian Woods, with flowing rivers and dangerous crags. Halcyon Lake lie in the center as the jewel of it all far off upland. Contrasting horribly with the ugly town of Evermore which lay within a crudely oval-circular wall, the head-monarch's castle at the middle, elevated above the rest, peering over the town and nearby graze-lands and narrow river-port. A cove Stesha knew thanks to geography books called Jackdaw was at the other side of lake, near some Ayleid ruins. Even from here he could see the congregation of pirates, orcs, nereids **,** and reachmen. A few jackals snapped past him, returning his attention to the foreboding city above. Aquatic fauna dotted the gravelly coastline and air smelled pungent here.

_Gods, this place has fallen from grace._

The Armure Gate was open across a short bridge that covered a mote, wooden, old, and clearly rotting. The one silver-armored steward on post barely spared him a glance as he strode past into the city greater. Evermore was comprised mainly of dirt roads, shabby, stilted hovels and piles of hay here and there where the beggars and lowlifes congregated, outside The Stalls and Evermore Cemetery.

Stesha then saw the burned down Chapel of St. Pelin. _Thank the gods I don't live here._

He noticed a sign hanging above one of the buildings that had a carriage logo imprinted on it. He stepped in, pushing aside the door. A grungy woman with brown hair up in a bun resided at the counter, examining her appearance in a hand-held mirror. -- The carriage office reminded him of the buildings of Bravil that he'd seen in paintings. Treen everywhere, a rug, and that was about the most curious thing he could find.

"I'm Mildred Demelza, how can I be of service?" She asked mechanically in her bretic accent, still studying herself in the small reflective-glass.

"I need passage to Jehanna." Stesha approached her, making sure not to get too close.

"Wayshrine or carriage?" She replied, still not sparing him so much as a glance.

"What's cheaper?" Stesha questioned, startled a bit.

"Carriage, though it takes much longer as you should know," said Mildred.

"Alright, carriage then." Stesha pulled out his coin-purse from his small cross-shouldered satchel. "How much?"

The nasally-sounding breton pulled out a book from beneath the counter and ran her fingers over her tongue to help her turn the page. She scrolled through, filing a few folios before saying, "thirty septims."

Stesha handed over the exact amount, thankful that he left Wayrest Chateau with some gold. She opened a different book that was already on the counter and dipped a quill-pen in some ink. "Your name and age please?"

"Uhh," Stesha murmured, thinking quick, "Matthew Motre, and seventeen."

_Dang, I didn't lie about my age. Why do they even need age?_

"Motre, eh?" Drawled the woman, penning down the name. "Of the nomadic Motre clan up north?" She reconnoitered up at him for the first time since his arrival.

"Err... sure?" He lied.

"You know, they say the Motre clan has links to nobility in Northpoint and ties to the Motierre family," Mildred went on.

"Oh, that's cool," Stesha yawned, covering his mouth with his left hand. "What's a Motierre?"

"Don't tell me you haven't heard of the Motierre's! Very prestigious breton family down in Cyrodill." She closed her book, hazel eyes bouncing animatedly.

"So, when is the carriage coming?" Stesha pried, wanting to go.

"Should be along shortly, just outside the gate." She reached under her desk once again and pulled out a ticket, handing it to him. "Show them this and make sure it's the carriage for Farrun and Jehanna."

Stesha grabbed it. "Thanks," he offered urgently, making a hastened getaway before the annoying lady could pester him further. As he was getting out, he kicked something over and a box broke open, several things falling out including a stuffed-doll of a nord woman, conservatively dressed with a flower in her short, blonde hair.

Stesha didn't know why but he couldn't keep himself from looking away. He bent down to grab it, turning around with a question on his face.

"It's my niece's stuffed Dibella doll. Course she doesn't play with it anymore." She flicked her hands. "What, do you want it?"

Stesha nodded. An attached tag on the toy's arm read; _I love you._ He hugged the doll against his neck like it was his own mother.

"Fucking weirdo." Mildred shook her head.

Stesha, gripping the doll in one hand, rushed back up to the gate but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw who was pacing up the dirt road.

"Ancano."

Stesha pulled his hood further down his likeness and spun on his heels to walk a few steps down an alleyway with a water well towards the end of it. Thankfully Ancano zoomed right past him. Stesha took a shufti round and recast an invisibility charm over himself, hastily trailing the six-feet tall altmer. The Thalmor had marched right up to the argonian bailiff of Evermore, who was loitering near the Anchor's Point Pub, entertaining a few fellow guardsmen.

"Kantora," Ancano began, "I'm looking for Stesha Jade, son of Evarié Jade. As well as a dark elf named Idrasa Relas. You seen them?"

"Oh, well hello, handsome, how are you?" The bailiff flirted, rotating on the balls of her feet to regard the blond son of Summerset.

"I'm in no mood for pleasantries, Quick-Scales. Just tell me if you've seen them or not." Ancano squared his deltoids.

"Why don't you," she hiccuped, "describe them and maybe I'll tell you if I've seen them," the Saxhleel coughed again, "or not."

Ancano rolled his gold. "Stesha is fine-nine in height, physically frail minus the shoulders." He dusted off his broad armor-pads. "Idrasa is the same height, russet-red hair and eyes, nineteen, rather thin," he added when the Black Marsh sheriff stared at him with vacant pupils.

"Hmm." Kantora played with one of the ringed horns on her head.

"Bloody breton, not like that's going to narrow the search," Ancano muttered incoherently, then his eyes widened. "Oh yeah, one more thing; Stesha's got slight points to his ears."

"I don't know if you've noticed, elfie boy," said the lizard, taking a swig of her tankard. "But plenty of bretons have slightly pointy ears. Not exactly what I'd call a distinguishing trait."

_Ancano is silly._

"Do you have any idea where they might've gone? Is it possible either of them have been here?" Ancano was sighing so loudly a flock of birds flew off from the pub's roof.

Stesha cast another sneak around the settlement. Mud puddles, small stalks of grass, and ruined buildings with no sewage or drainage since people were bathing in the streets inside of big wooden buckets. A few War Knights were jousting on one end of town while two scantily clad women sashayed up the incline towards Castle Evermore, a fat lord with an ugly mustache in between them, smoking a pipe, his hands dangerously close to the women's derrières.

_This is what happens when you kick the gods out of your town. Fucking pedophiles and depravity left and right._

"Maybe they're pretending to be courtesans in the Duke's brothel," suggested Kantora Quick-Scales, waggling her scaly brows at the passing prostitutes. "Sound like quite the catches from your description of them."

Stesha and Ancano simultaneously gagged.

"You're no help," grunted the high elf, facing away from the drunken southerner.

"Alright, alright, I'll tell you where I think they went," she fessed up, clearing her throat. Stesha listened in interestedly. "It just so happens I've been informed about this little boy and girl of yours."

_Stupid drunk bitch, quit drinking on the job. Even I'm beginning to get irritated and I'm not even supposed to be siding with Ancano._ Stesha crept a little nearer, ducking behind a barrage of barrels. The musty smell of alcohol gave him the urge to retch. _Definitely sticking to skooma._

"They're not my! They're wanted for selling skooma!" Yelled Ancano, attracting the attention of nearby passerby.

"Whatever, there's a skooma operation going on beneath Northpoint, in the sewers. Don't tell anyone I told you, but maybe they're there if it's true that they're junkies," exclaimed the Argonia native.

"Finally, a lead." Ancano peered up at the sky in supposed triumph. "Thanks, Kantora. Take care." Then the aldmeri advisor left, heading out of the city.

Stesha trailed behind him a ways, giving Evermore another pitied glance. A few chickens ran amuck, squawking. A little kid was sitting in a mud puddle, his father drunk from booze and passed out next to him. A creep was chasing a woman, shouting something inane.

_Thanks the gods Ancano's been misled at least._

Stesha exited the rundown hellhole of a town shortly afterwards and hopped onto his designated carriage with a few other travellers, happy to see Ancano in a different one than he, going in the opposite direction.

_Now, to Jehanna, and then Skyrim._

**~ § ó § ò § ~**

**A/N: Please leave your thoughts. Just a line or two can make my day ;)**

Chapter 6: Weeping Petals


	7. Unicorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

**Chapter 7: Unicorn**

**A/N: How's 2021 been so far? Thank you to the anonymous reviewer on FF net, whoever you are lol. Another round of thanks to Mick & Benjamin on Fandom as well!**

**~ § ó § ò § ~**

Heavy rain thundered and pattered the ground harshly, soaking the tall grass and mountainous countryside of the Wrothgar region, of which Mount Sorrow stood strongly in the abrasive winds. Stesha shivered and shuddered, wrapping his cloak tightly around himself as the carriage riding up the Jehanna Road finally came to a halt outside the battlements surrounding the city. Everyone started getting off, a family of three and two orcish hunters proceeded him. Another carriage coming from Northpoint had arrived just then too, its passengers pouring out into the drenched mountainside.

_Thankfully, none of them was too interested in me during the trip_ , Stesha smiled in spite himself.

_Why would anyone be interested in you?_

_Why would I even care if someone was_ , retorted Stesha gloomily.

One more caravan pulled up now, oddly enough from the alps toward Skyrim. The cart was full of priestesses judging by their hooded monk-robes.

"Come on ladies," called whom Stesha assumed was the Head Priestess judging by the dangles of grey hair that stuck out her hood.

One by one they each hopped out. One of them, a particularly young one said, "can't believe we had to come here. Why did Lady Dibella order Saadia to send us to High Rock?"

"Secret reasons, Fjotra," answered the High Priestess as they lined up behind Stesha who himself was at the back of the queue.

"I heard Saadia fled her home of Hammerfell when she was young. Who's to say she's not betraying us too." Fjotra crossed her arms, leaning on one hip.

"Shush. Saadia is a good woman!" Admonished another female priest.

Sweat perspired down his forehead. _Dibella, the Divine Dibella? Sent them here? But why?_

He followed the procession up to the archway entrance where two knights stood keeping guard. One nord, one orc, both wrapped in furs as well as holding shields that bore the Jehanna coat of arms; a maiden that approximated a nymph with flowers for hands.

_There must be another temple of Dibella here that they've been sent too_ , he deduced.

"I like your figurine," reviewed someone. Stesha turned around and saw it was the youngest priestess of Dibella; Fjotra. She was about the same age as him.

He looked down at the miniature depiction of Dibella. Stesha brushed the raindrops off her face with his thumb. "Thanks!" He smiled at the holy girl broadly.

"What a strange boy," murmured the Head-Priestess as she analysed Stesha. "Looks so much like-- no, it must be the rain."

"Before entering, we need your names please," said the nord knight noisily. "No exceptions," he added, eyeing the pair of orcs. "We've been informed of some criminals on the loose."

Stesha's heart howled at him like a dying wolf.

The family of three all said their identities and entered, followed by the orc poachers.

"Next," called the orc knight in her brutish intonation.

"I am Shrek Gro-Azog, and this is my wife, Fortuna Gra-Azog." Stesha took note that the orsimer who said this was a ghastly shade of lime-green and sounded like he was from the upland moors. "We're from Orcrest you see, in Elsweyr. It's next to a swamp full of ogres," he explained when they stared at him.

After about ten minutes the whole babble of bumbling Bretons from Northpoint had stated their aliases and gone in, leaving only Stesha and the priestesses behind him.

_Should I be a gentleman and let them go ahead?_ He deliberated carefully, _nah, I don't want them to think I'm hitting on them like a creep._

The last two people in front of him made their way in and Stesha quickly stepped up. "Rastaban Shaitan," he intoned before the knight could interrogate him.

"An unusual name for a manmeri. Sounds redguardian to me," he remarked, penning something down on his clipboard and parchment.

"I was raised by redguards," Stesha lied, improvising fast and faking an accent. "That's why I'm so smart." He hooked a hand upwards.

"Are you saying those redguards are smarter than the rest of us?!" The nord's disgusting muttonchops and handlebar mustache fluttered.

"Yeah, I-I mean no." Stesha made a few placating gestures. "Intelligence is individual based... clearly."

"I mean, you are pretty fucking stupid, Ice-Blade." The orc dame picked something off her spiky tooth, slinging it into the rain. "You haven't noticed how much I--".

"Says the great big ug--" Ice-Blade stopped when his Wrothgarian compatriot glowered at him. "Beautiful orc." He shrunk back a little as Stesha snuck away amongst the commotion.

He hid behind the arch and turned back to see.

"You think I'm beautiful!" The orc woman's brows loomed magnanimously. "Oh, Pjofr! I knew you'd eventually return my feelings!" She threw her hands around him.

Stesha sneaked away. _I'm going to pretend that didn't happen._

Jehenna stemmed atop a low cliffside, large grey towers and walls protecting it from the wind and elements. The mountain-huts and houses contained inside all panelled in orderly fashions as consecutive neighbourhoods. Showers kept splattering the bricked grounds as Stesha moved on, his eyes peering around for any sign of an inn or lodging. There was a smaller gateway across the settlement that led downwards to Jehanna Jetty, reading the sign, definitely situated at the bottom of the cliffs en haut de Sea of Ghosts. There were more orsimer here than Stesha had ever seen together and their influence was prevalent. Wirings, bannisters, and fish-lines consisting of dead sharks, horkers, and fish hung. A statue of Malacath as well as their signature greenish arbor scattered about. He also saw an oval garden with a sakura-tree in town-square. At last he spotted the inn, near the center of the central housing-arrangements.

_The Gale Brooks Room & Board_, he mentally cited crossing over the street, narrowly avoiding a line of ducks quacking and waddling about the forming puddles.

Stesha closed the door behind him and took a seat by the hearth, trying to warm up by rubbing his hands together. The place was cozy and well kept a counter with a barman in the corner, a few tables, sofas near the fire and set of ladder-steps leading to what was no doubt the rooms that had been advertised outside. Next to him on the couches was a cloaked figure, rocking back and forth, who happened to be reading a storybook to some young children and a teenager whose front was also concealed by a covering garment. Stesha noticed the story being titled, _'The Bad Man'_. He glimpsed a few more books lying on a stand next to the mysterious stranger. _The Arcturian Heresy_ , _The Talos Mistake, The Lunar Lorkhan, Chaurus Pie: A Recipe_ , _A Bosmer-Altmer Love Story_ , _Friend In Me._ Stesha pushed the stack aside and gave a cursory overview to the magazines beneath, _Tom and the Bad Man: A Breton Folktale, Mara the Sunderer: The Lady of Divorce, Auri-El and the Monkey Prophet._

"Are the children ready?" Asked the cloaked figure in his familiar voice, peering over the tome with his green eyes, surveying each and every one of the little runts.

"J'zargo?" Stesha tapped him on the shoulder. "Why are you here?"

J'zargo's eyes snapped to Stesha, then he relaxed. "Oh, J'zargo did not notice you come in. J'zargo and Pierre were left off the hook but exiled so we come here."

"Why was Pierre exiled?"

"He is this one's father's half-brother, and he's fifteen. So they went easy on him."

"Is he here?" Stesha slumped forward.

The teenager in the group threw off his hood. "Great," was all he could muster.

"I'm too tired to berate you right now, so I'll let you go," Stesha hissed at his family-member.

"J'zargo was banished from Stormhaven but Pierre here has been excommunicated from all of High Rock, he will be making his way to Skyrim soon, won't you Pierre?"

"Where else am I going to go?" Pierre grabbed a cushion from the couch and lied down on the floor.

"I was heading there myself," Stesha revealed. "You can come if you survive."

_He could come in handy but I could care less if he gets killed._

"Like you will." Pierre sent a rude gesture to Stesha, which he ignored.

"Mister J'zargo, please tell us the tale already!" Squeaked a little imperial girl. The other children nodded repetitiously.

_I might as well listen while I warm up_ , decided Stesha.

"This story is about the Bad Man. We also call him the Evil One, the Greedy Liar, the Trickster, Betrayer, or the Devil of Tamriel," the Khajiit conceptualised in a whisper as all the kids fell into silence, quieting down the whole building.

"Sure you didn't miss any names there, J'zargo?" Stesha teased.

"You will shush or khajiit will castrate you with his bare-claws." Only the crackling of the flames from the fireplace mantle could be heard now. "Once, a long time ago, there were two twin brothers, though they were nothing alike. The first brother, who we call the Golden King, was a great kind dragon. The Golden King wanted peace and happiness for all the living creatures he created. But, his brother, who we call the Bad Man grew envious of his twin's good fortune and sought to twist his creations. He defiled the Golden King's sisters and daughters, and led many of the Golden King's brothers and sons astray."

_This is so fucking cliche. I've heard this a million times before, you've got to be kidding me._

"But the worst thing the Bad Man did was make a place called Nirni, for you see, he tricked the Golden King and his children to help him make Nirni and thus the Golden King and his family lost much of their powers and left to the sky. The Bad Man was then imprisoned inside the giant volcano for his crimes by the sun and never allowed out again."

_So, a simplified version of what happened in Nirn's creation for kids. It seems all us mortals are good at is imitation._

"Was-was the Bad Man who the big dragon shot out of the sky a few days ago?" Asked a redgaurd boy.

"Perhaps," conceded J'zargo. “The book also says the Evil One wishes to find and harness the heart of the universe.”

_Isn’t Lorkhan’s heart destroyed? What the hell is the ‘heart of the universe’ supposed to mean?_

The black-haired imperial girl rocked back and forth. "But how did he get back to the sky if he was trapped in the volcano?" Her brows were halfway up her forehead.

"The Bad Man is very powerful." J'zargo closed the book. "His influence pervades us even today. Whenever you feel the urge to do bad things, to steal, disrespect your parents, whatever it may be -- it is the Bad Man who is speaking to you. Just as when you do good, it is the Golden King smiling down upon you."

_Shut the fuck up already._

"But why? Why does the Bad Man do those things?" Cried the redguard boy, a few tears streamed down his cheeks.

"The Bad Man hates his brother, the Golden King, and seeks to twist the world against him. The Bad Man above all things is a trickster and a defiler. He, J'zargo believes, found a way back into the sky and that is why the Golden King banished him again," enunciated the cathay-khajiit, glancing briefly at his copy of The Arcturian Heresy.

_The monotony of this world and its fucking inhabitants is more than I can handle._

Stesha, whose chest and arms felt heated now, stood up and sidled over to the counter to order some food, unsure of how to feel about J'zargo and his obviously Thalmor-insinuated novella. _Probably best if I just forget it. J'zargo's always making a ruckus about this type of stuff, usually shit he barely understands._

"Could I have a slice of meat pie, some water, and uhh.. glazed fruit please?" Stesha slid a small amount of septims across the counter.

"Sure thing, here you go." The balding barman exchanged the food for gold and went back to cleaning his mugs.

Stesha took the meal back to his seat by the table to eat it.

"What, nothing for me?" Pierre pouted.

Stesha flicked a piece of meat at him that wedged out of the pie.

"Tom, could you warm up some cookies and hot cocoa for the chillren' please?" Asked J'zargo gently.

"Sure thing, J'zargo," Tom the bartender replied, casting a log into his fire-stoked oven.

"Yay!" A few of the kids cheered.

Stesha shoveled in the last few pieces of fruit in his mouth and washed it down with his water. Then, he leaned over to his former dealer while the kids were enjoying freshly baked cookies and hot chocolate. The aroma of such was breathtakingly enticing.

"Hey, J'zargo," Stesha prompted. The lynx turned to regard him with his whiskery feline face, drooping with a lengthy mustache and several gold rings.

"Yes, child?"

_YeS cHiLd. I swear if I hear one more person say that._

"Do you know of any way I might be able to get to Skyrim from here?" Stesha gulped, he wanted to reel back at the cat's viridescent goggling.

"Why in Alkosh's blessed name would this one want to go there? Does this one have a death-wish?" He furled his overgrown brow. "Frozen and cold as Atmora, monsters roaming the land on the hunt for anyone outside the walls of the five cities. Bandits, thieves, vermin, vikings and worse lurking around, and corrupt politicians, priests, and jarls inside the walls. Not to mention home to arguably the biggest prison in the world where they only send the worst of the worst. Now they are saying they have spotted a few dragons resurfacing on the horizon. Child, Skyrim is pretty from the outside and its cities are no doubt some of the most beautiful but there's a reason it has the lowest population in all of the tamrielic provinces."

_Precisely why it is perfect, no one will ever find me there._

"Pierre here doesn't have a choice," J'zargo meowed, "when this one said this one was going there, J'zargo thought the child must be joking."

"I still need to go there." Stesha struggled for breath. "I'm a wanted fugitive. If Pierre and I go together, we're less likely to die."

J'zargo studied him for a few more moments, his solemn green-irises trying to penetrate into Stesha's dark-brown ones. "Very well, khajiit knows a way you can get there, but he needs to know first; have you ever felt a woman's _warmth_?"

_I wonder what size rope would fit around my neck._

Stesha cocked his head back. "What? Why ask me that?"

"Answer truthfully, it is imperative." J'zargo wagged a finger at him.

"I've never been with anyone." Stesha swallowed the dryness in his mouth, poking a finger at his eye to cover the flush increasing up his skin.

Pierre's smirk grew menacingly wide. "He's never even held hands with a woman. Let alone a relationship or anything of the sort. I don't think he's even been hugged in his life by anyone other than his father. Poor little Stesha, grown up all protected. It's a surprise you've even seen a woman."

"It's funny you think I'm insulted by that, Pierre." Stesha rearranged his hair when it fell over his eyes. “Bizarre values you have.”

"Are you... are you a moral boy? Relatively speaking," the feline continued his interrogation of him as the group of kids snacked on their cookies like a bunch of addicts on moon sugar.

"Just shut the fuck up, J'zargo." Stesha clenched his jaw and observed his fingers. "Why do you need to know this stuff anyways? What do you only help "good" people or something?" He air-quoted the word _: good._

"No, no, you'll see tomorrow. Meet J'zargo here at the break of dawn. Now, cathay suggests you get some sleep," finished the dark-grey furred individual. "Also, khajiit will have to charge you around twenty gold for this. Have to make money somehow, don't we?" His features snuck into a sourire.

Stesha lowered his chin, payed Tom for a room and went upstairs to crawl under some furs. He made sure his door was tightly locked to avoid any intrusions from his crazy relative. Thankfully, this time it was mostly a dreamless sleep, although he thought he saw a shadowy stranger in golden-bronze armour eating a bowl of dragon bones, oddly enough.

Stesha got up at first light the next morning, took a fully-body wash in the local bathhouse and frustratedly screamed at himself in the mirror when no one was around to witness. Changing into some fur armour, boots, and gauntlets, he stole and trodding back into the Gale Brooks inn to wait for J'zargo and perhaps Pierre. He sipped some chai tea as he sat there by the fire, waiting, picking up a copy of the newly inked newspaper that was lying nearby, The Knightly-Order Newsletter.

** Skooma Scandal in Wayrest **

His insides gurgled and churned when he read the headline, but forced himself to peruse on regardless.

_Stesha Jade, son of a high-ranking court attendant, Evarié Jade, was found to be guilty alongside his cohorts, Pierre Guimard and Idrasa Relas, of illegally transporting and selling the banned narcotic known as 'skooma', within the city of Wayrest, capital of Menevia._

_Right now, the Queen and matriarch of the city, Crisantha Barynia, daughter of the exiled king, Tom Barynia, has assured us that she has her advisor, Ancano Charmaine, and the city's Knights of the Rose working around the clock to locate Stesha and Idrasa who escaped on the day of conviction, whilst Pierre was exiled._

_Reports say Jade is hiding out in Northpoint, though others have reported him passing off as a female hooker in Evermore. Relas, on the opposite hand, is said to have fleeted to either Hammerfell or Skyrim. If you see these highly dangerous characters, please report them effective-immediately. Jade is said to be a frail-figured breton, with chest-length hair and of average height. Relas is dunmeri, auburn-headed to the shoulders, and last seen adorning silver robes._

"Yeah, a goddamn seventeen year-old who can't even lift a sword is 'highly dangerous'." Stesha rolled his eyes so far he almost saw the back of his skull. "All I did was move a bottle of skooma to a crate and they're making it seem like I instigated mass murder. These reporters really have nothing better to do than make melodrama out of everything."

He saw Tom the innkeeper napping on his cot behind the counter. Stesha paged down the article to see what else had occurred.

_Pierre Guimard, Queen Crisantha's questionably young concubine was banished from High Rock for his role in the schemes, which he reported were, "mostly my nephew, Stesha's fault." The owner of the underground skooma den, J'zargo Chowdru'Mane has also been sentenced out of Stormhaven for life and Stesha's father, Evarié has been discredited and jailed in-place of Stesha, losing his high status._

Stesha paused. "So, the Queen wasn't bluffing when she said she'd incarcerate him." He put his face in his hands. "Maybe I shouldn't have been so harsh on him all the time. We all make mistakes. The gods know I have."

_In other news, experts have been doing their best to discern what exactly appeared out of the sun a few days ago. Most have concluded it was divine intervention from the dragon god Akatosh, such as that of when he conquered Mehrunes Dagon 200 years ago during the Oblivion Crisis. But why he came to Nirn, no one knows? All that can be said was several eyewitness accounts say he was expelling something toward Skyrim. So far, Skyrim ambassadors have failed to comment._

_Speaking of Skyrim and international news, the short-lived Stormcloak Rebellion, which originated in Amol led by Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, has been all but squashed with Ulfric and the last of his troops on the run in the wilds of Skyrim. However, the Jarl of Old Fort, General Tullius Prometheus, has taken a brigade of imperial soldiers, is dedicated to hunting down the traitor, and put an end to the poster boy of the Empire's problems._

_On Cyrodill, Thalmor envoys are traveling with the Emperor Titus Mede ll to his reunion with the widow, Elisif Svetlana in Nordenbjörg. Elisif, one of Ulfric's many victims when Ulfric killed her husband, Torygg Istlod, the High King, initially sparking his rebellion._

_Penned by Alauna Gardner, 19th of Last Seed._

Stesha stood up, curling the paper into a ball and shooting it at the fireplace. _Fuck Alauna._ He cocked back a fist and struck it into the roasting wood, hissing when a spark caught him on his upper hamstring. _Fuck._ He healed himself pathetically with a spell.

"Is this one ready or does he have to make himself look more of a fool?" Stesha commanded a view and saw J'zargo and Pierre waiting for him. He set aside the spell and bobbed his chin, tossing Chowdru'Mane the money.

Stesha covered Pierre’s mouth before the nasally Breton could comment.

"Follow J'zargo please, do not dawdle and make sure no one trails you." J'zargo pranced out of the cozy inn and Stesha shadowed him from beneath his swaying mane, keeping the khajiit's tail in his sights.

J'zargo and Pierre led the way out of Jehenna to a small canopy of trees on the base of Mount Sorrow, over an edge above the whistling sea below.

"I wish I had some skooma," Stesha guttered as they submit to the wooded grove, its lofty pines clothing them in abundant shade.

His eyelids expanded when he witnessed what was hiding there and then understood why J'zargo had asked him if he was a virgin the night before.

"A-a unicorn?" Stesha's mouth gaped open. His mood slowly arose.

"Shut your mouth, don't want a fly to go in," protested the former skooma-dealer as he began patting down the creature.

Stesha absentmindedly closed his lips and examined the marvel of a horse. White fur like the snow, a gleaming gold horn and powerful legs with a stocky tail.

"Her name is Persephone, one of J'zargo's many connections found her years ago and have been taking care of her ever since. She helps travelers cross over to Skyrim when they come by. Though as this one ought to know, only a virgin can ride a unicorn. Thus why J'zargo has never ridden her himself. She'd just boot anyone else off. Sometimes the children go for rides on her for fun." The cat brandished an apple from his pocket and fed it to Persephone who scarfed it down feverishly.

"She's beautiful and all but I don't see how she's going to get me to Skyrim?" Stesha let her sniff his hand before petting her gently.

"Unicorns aren't like ordinary horses, they can race up and down mountainous terrain without issue and very very quickly too. Stesha will be in Skyrim in no time," explained the khajiit. "Now, hop on."

_How utterly convenient. Seems even the gods want me to go to Skyrim so I can die._

Stesha climbed aboard the beaut, straddling his bag tightly against him and cuffing his arms around its neck. "Thanks for your help, J'zargo. Although if you never blamed us in the first place, we'd never have to go through all this trouble either."

"Look, it was either this or J'zargo taking all the blame and going to jail for life. You rich snobs deserved to be taken down a notch." The beast gave him a flat look.

_I guess I can't argue with that. Though I wouldn't say I'm rich._

Pierre, apparently not having heard anything, attempted to jump onto Persephone but she kicked him so hard he went flying into a bush.

"What gives?" He stood up, falling all over the place, clearly dizzy.

"You're not a virgin, mister _Queen's favored boy-toy_ ," Stesha exchanged a deuteronomy of Pierre's words.

J'zargo nodded. "Akatosh be with you." He whistled loudly and the unicorn was off, rocketing upwards.

It took everything Stesha had to hold on as it whipped up the mountainside faster than any horse he'd ever ridden, pounding across the trail. His hood flew back and wind pulled his hair as the unicorn increased its speed.

Only an hour passed when they were bustling down the snowy hills into the frosted crags and frozen, winding rivers beneath them. They were in Skyrim. Stesha was positively freezing now, his teeth chattering loudly as the unicorn came to an abrupt halt in the open snowed-in countryside. He hopped off and nodded his thanks, too cold to move his hands. It licked his face, snorted and was off, back up the mountain, as fast as a leopard. Stesha gazed around and saw the gelid landscape that surrounded him, no signs of life other than a few dead trees and ill rooted shrubbery.

He slid down a slump near a river that was completely frozen. _Gods, it's only Last Seed and everything here is already looking like it's the middle of winter._ Stesha kept peddling down the path that was canvassed betwixt a ravine in which the icy river ran. On his way, he found a dead man, blood oozing out of him meaning it was a fresh kill. He was in blue armor coated with fur that had a bear logo emblazoned on it.

_I'm already wearing fur armor plus a cloak. I should be fine._ He tucked his hands into his pockets.

Stesha treaded further into the icy landscape, now holding his arms to his chest to keep himself warm. He viewed a hillside emerge amongst the confining crags and walked up them to be greeted with the sight of an imperial battalion in a battleground ladened camp.

A tan-skinned imperial general held his sword to the neck of a rather significant looking nord. More dead bodies with bear logos laid strewn about. "Ulfric Stormcloak, some here in Skyrim call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne."

Ulfric grunted from behind his cloth.

"You started this war! Plunged Skyrim into chaos! And now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace!" -- "Rikke, give him his last rites."

"Yes, General Tullius!" The one called Rikke agreed. "As we commend your soul to whichever afterlife you have earned, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you. For you are the salt and earth of Nirn."

Rikke pushed Ulfric over and Tullius lopped his head off with his sword. It rolled miserably, landing in a puddle. "Ulfric is dead at last. Good work, ladies and gentlemen."

"General Tullius, why didn't we execute him in one of the big cities?" Planted Rikke the nord legate.

"What?" The General rubbed his head. "Are you insane, Rikke, my dear?" That would just provide him with another convenient opportunity to escape. What do you think this is some kind of poorly written novel?"

_Sometimes I feel like that's exactly what life is. A shitty book meant to torture the characters._

"General Tullius sir, he was the last one. The last stormcloak. They're gone sir, for good," enunciated a different trooper. This one a nordic male youth. So handsome that even Stesha was having a hard time not admiring his knife-like jawline.

"Good, Hadvar. This was their last outpost too. Which means there shouldn't be any splinter rebellions either. And with Ulfric dead, we've won this war in earnest, men," announced the greying Tullius with a haircut like that of Tiber Septim's. _A Septim Cut._

"Hey wait, there's one more of them!" Hadvar shouted, pointing at Stesha. He rushed over before Stesha could react and grabbed him by the collar, dragging him over to General Tullius. "It's a young girl, sir. Should we kill her?"

"No, she's probably a healer." Tullius shook his head.

_For the first time I'm glad I was mistaken for a girl._

Hadvar let go of him. "You from Daggerfall, breton? Fleeing from some court intrigue?"

_Wayrest, actually._

"Hadvar, shush! -- What's your name, miss?" Tullius nodded at Stesha.

Stesha did his best to make his voice sound feminine, "Stesha Jade."

"Very well, Miss Jade. You'll be coming with us to Old Fort." Tullius gestured to Rikke. "Knock her out."

Rikke was scouring over a scroll of unfolded parchment. "She's not on the list."

"Forget the list, she goes to the prisons," answered Tullius.

"Yes sir," said the woman. She came up to Stesha. Stesha saw a fist come down upon him and next thing he knew he was out cold... again.

**~ § ó § ò § ~**

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Please review; it does put a smile on my face. Several of the book titles mentioned toward the end are actual one-shot tes fanfictions I enjoyed and wanted to reference.**

Chapter 7: Unicorn


	8. Messiah Complex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A man who spends all his time in his head is far from reality.

**Chapter 8: Messiah Complex**

**A/N: Several character appearances, backstories, and even personalities have been altered from vanilla Skyrim. Ancano is much younger, and more reasonable here and has a backstory. Also, this story is probably gonna be 70 chapters. Originally planned for 50, but it can't all be contained in just 50. I promise it won’t be longer than that because then it would just be milking + I want to do other things with my life other than just writing. I’m better at things I can coast through like running or sports since they don’t require as much mental agitation due to my ocd which makes writing and mind-oriented hobbies very difficult. I get in the bad habit of obsessing over every detail and stagnate everywhere else.**

**Warning: Disturbing scenes ahead.**

**~ § ó § ò § ~**

Tiber awoke. Marking his return to the Fatherland. All he saw around him was a massive blackened crater and towering pines, a thick cover of snow blanketed the land. Dizziness pervaded his skull as he crawled to the edge of the hollow, coughing his violet blood. He mouth-wiped himself and stood straight, reorienting his body as the nausea threatened to put him down again.

Miserable warbles and gurgles echoed from his gullet.

He blinked ashes out of his eyes. His lack of eyelashes made it increasingly difficult. _How long have I been out?_ Tiber sat down and massaged his temples. _I'm mortal again... I'm weak, vulnerable. Ugh._ He consumed the spit on his tongue.

_Akatosh._

_Damn him for eternity. I never should have underestimated his intelligence._

Tiber's insides unfilled as he laid back on his elbows, soaking in the surroundings. Nothing was real. Hope was gone. He'd been found out. _Nothing makes sense anymore._ A few bunnies trampled by, oblivious to his condition. A deer galivanting amongst the snow-ladened hills and winding icy canyons to the east. He shuddered as he in-took a breath of air, exhaling through his nose.

Violet woke like a serpent.

_All those eras of work, thrown away. Always because of him. Why did you have to exist, Akatosh? Why? All I ever wanted was to make my world my way without your bloody perfection. And to be recognized for it._

Tiber cast a few healing spells to repair his various injuries and torn ligaments. The spell conjured around him, sewing up wounds and rejuvenating him in a warmth like that he experienced with a woman.

_I'll never be a god again, I'll never be able to defeat Akatosh now. Not like I ever could, even when I was at full strength. Even the originators prefer him over me. Exalt him over me. -- All my plans for the world and of me being the one true god are all for nothing now. Centuries of planning... all for nothing. My ambitions. All swept away just like that. If only I'd been less cautious and enacted them sooner. I could've been the most exalted being in the universe, reach whoever started this all. Find out why._

As if his ex-wife Kynareth herself was spitting on him, it began to rain. The teardrops of the clouds showered down on him, freezing the snow into ice or sloshing it into a mix of glacial waves.

Kyne's screams echoed with the thunder and lightning that followed, striking several trees, setting them aflame. Her rage at his betrayal.

"Why Shor?" He could hear her voice resonate in the wind.

_Because I refuse to be anyone's pawn. Because I tried to make a world I wanted to live in... Because I just wanted to be understood by someone like me. And no one would care lest I was great._

The miserable rain man trudged through the downpour and sleet, his Imperial-Dragon Boots protecting him from the elements. More lightning crackled through the sky, he swore he could see the clouds forming the shapes of his brothers and sisters. _Former_ brothers and sisters.

_They could never understand me. No one could. No one would. No one cares too. They're all just as selfish as they accuse me of being._

_It doesn't matter at the moment. What can I do now?_

Skyrim stirred in the harsh cries of Mother Nature, the tree branches swiveling with heavy sleet and ice splitting across giant frozen lakes.

_Akatosh said he was sending his last child to defeat me. So, he's finally found a way to end me then. Fair enough, this universe isn't big enough for the two of us. About time one of us takes the lead._

_Just wish it could've been me, and it was my brother down here suffering and my Shezarrine being sent to defeat him._

_Shezarrine... hmm._ He stroked his short stubbly-goatee.

Tiber's short amount of hair was soused in the rain, his snake-tail had coiled around his leg to find comfort.

_I knew he had birthed the Last Dragonborn seventeen years ago, he told us, but he never explained why. I remember teasing the brat when he was a kid, but I didn't know he was born to stop me, if I had, I could've just. No, it's likely Akatosh found a way to protect him, a failsafe in case I ever tried to kill him. -- The question remains though, what can I do with the time I have left. I'm about to die and then suffer in hellish torment for eternity. There is no escape now, my days are numbered. I could die tomorrow or five years from now, either way it's over._

The rain attacked his face. _Fuck it all._

_The curse of being Sithis' first born. The price of ambition_ , the words reverberated throughout the mainframe of his skull. _This is what you get for being gifted, different, blessed with knowledge. You get shunned and abandoned. Because your way of thinking doesn't align with the public viewpoint. For daring to skew from what would be the norm._

_This is what I get for being a hero. For challenging authority. This is what I get for being a messianic savior._

He sighed deeply, _and none will ever know it._

Tiber tried to laugh, but it came out errant, as croaking-gasping instead of an audible laugh. Each iota pulsed his scar with pain.

_If I'm going to burn, then I'm not going without a fight. I have nothing left to lose. I'm going to ruin this world. Sow as much discord in this land, kill as many people, rape as many women, lead as many astray. If I can't touch Akatosh, then I'll torture the thing he holds most dear, his children. I'll corrupt every last one, make them indirectly worship me by following my teachings rather than his. Priests will become rapists. Scientists and mages will be hanged for blasphemy. Women who have slept with man will be burned for impurity. Virgin boys will be sacrificed for lack of virility. People will steal, kill their siblings over greed, over indulge, blame Akatosh, love me._

_I'm going to show everyone. I'll shake the very foundations of creation, bring the entire world to its knees, express my anger, rage, for everyone to bare witness too before I depart this cyclical plane of existence._

Tiber snaked his forked-tongue over his fangs, grinning. _The liberation._

_I will make brother suffer by making his beloved people suffer. I'm going to cause him as much pain as humanly possible before he gets me. -- With any luck I might finally locate the Heart of the Universe and have all the power in the world to defeat Akatosh and any who'd oppose me. Maybe I can destroy the soul of this "Dragonborn" child as well... yes, I'm beginning to get a few ideas._

_Why not beg for forgiveness?_ An unfamiliar tone, unknown to him welled from the deepest recesses of his soul, sounding like a child.

_Never. I will not beg to that fool. I am no coward. -- You want me to be the villain so bad, Akatosh. Your antithesis. I'll show you just what I'm capable of, if I haven't already. I conquered all of this pathetic continent once as a man, who's to say I can't ruin everything we've worked for. The stability you've sown, destroyed by my chaos._

_Alternatively, you could prosper, build a life for yourself and help others_ , the childish voice in his head persisted once more. _If you build a great nation the right way, get married to one good woman. Maybe Akatosh will forgive you and you can reconcile your differences?_

_Hmm, yes._ Tiber was so lost in thought his surroundings blurred around him. _Then I could trick him again, once I've earned his trust._

_No_ , the annoying child bickered. _Don't do that._

_Fuck you. They never cared for me when my heart was ripped out, I united this damn continent and they forsake my name and worship. Damn elves, smarter than I gave them credit for. Their little Thalmor know my true intent and nature._

_The Empire you created was built on the ashes of a million dead and deceived_ , the kiddish noise reprimanded him.

Tiber mediated, clearing his head of the verminous idiot. _Akatosh won't rest until I'm dead. I'm going to die, then he's going to make me suffer in hellfire. I know it. I know how he thinks. Everything is over._

_So, if he's going to make me suffer, I'm going to make him suffer. His people._

_Most of all, his little, baby Dragonborn. Nothing would hurt my brother more than to watch his precious little prince burn, like I'm going to burn. How fitting the youngest be the runt of the litter._

_I'm not going to kill the kid. I'm going to make him kill himself. Make him hate himself so much that he has nothing left to live for._

_But before that, he's going to endure pain no mortal has ever endured, and Akatosh will bear witness as I crush his soul and damage his spirit. When they think of me in the future, the boy will serve as a constant reminder of the magnificence of the god who bore this ungrateful world._

Tiber was shaken from his introspection when he came upon a large dwemeri styled hall in the middle of the outdoors. It was a tunnel that emptied into a thicket of trees. The words: _Danger, Beware_ imprinted on a sign outside.

He ignored it and stepped in, roving through the colossal window into the small bushel.

_If memory serves me correctly, this would be the Carnivorous Copse._ The compact grove of trees were bunched together like one big bush, snarling lowly in the breeze. _Good, I could use some practice._ Tiber unsheathed his blade and sprinted through the wound, slashing and crashing offshoots that whipped and fought back. He cleaved through them like obsidian through flesh, coming out the other end of the group of plants unscathed. The heads of spriggans tumbling out in his wake. As if some sort of final boss of a dungeon, the biggest tree, a stocky sugar pine approached him from across the rocky mountaintops in the clearing they found themselves in. -- Rocks and snowy grass cambered on.

_How bewitching._

The scenery of the glade was pulchritudinous. Clouds split as rays of sunshine shone with a colossal waterfall pouring into a giant basin-lake over the Jeralls that separated Skyrim from Cyrodill. The land between Tiber and the border covered with smaller, regular pine trees. Perhaps one of the densest forests he'd ever bore witness too.

"You dare enter sacred ground," rasped the king tree, having uprooted itself. "For your transgression, you shall pay."

_In what? Pinecones?_

Tiber sheathed his sword and conjured a lightweight battle-axe, charging hard. He jumped, spun and cut the titanic tree clean in half, its top falling onto the ground as he landed upon its barked visage.

_This power won't last. The longer I'm here, the weaker I'll get. I need to preserve as much strength as I can_ , he sighed.

An hour of travel deep into the woods toward Cyrodill found Tiber confronted once more, this time by three nords who'd been stupid enough to leave the safety of the walls.

"What are you doing out in the wilderness, sir?" Questioned a redhead broad. Tiber eyed her, licking his lips lustfully. From the swell of her plump breasts to the perky curve of her backside.

_If I kill her two companions, I can have my way with her._ Blood rushed to his lower regions at the thought and drool escaped his mouth. _It's almost as fine as Dibella and nothing would aid my mood more than a quick fix._

"Aela," whispered one of the woman's companions. "He might be a shapeshifter daedra, careful. Look at his horns, his eyes, that tail. I heard they can't speak like us. Ask it something."

_How dare this pompous brat call me an 'it'._ Tiber stared him down.

"Alright, Vilkas," the lady, Aela, pacified her black-haired pet. "Sir, you know it's extremely dangerous, even illegal in some circumstances without a permit, to be outside the walls of the five cities. Monsters roam these lands and it is freezing out here. Please come with us and we'll escort you to safety. We are the Companions of the city, Nordenbjörg. Do you understand?"

Tiber shook his head.

"He's stupider than me," mumbled the other norse man, this one burlier and bigger.

"Hush, Farkas. What did I tell you about behaving?" Aela patted the lumber-some Farkas on his mane.

"Yes, ma'am." Farkas searched the dirt, scratching behind his furry ears and scuffing his feet.

"Good boy." Aela tickled him under his hairy chin.

_I've had enough. This woman is as good as mine._ His loins were throbbing now.

Tiber unstrapped the knife from his waist and flung it in the direction of Vilkas. It pierced his neck. He fell back, blood spraying out as he convulsed, painting the snow crimson.

"VILKAS, NO!" Yelled Farkas, he reared on Septim and began transforming into something hairy and wolf-like.

Aela shot three successive rounds from her bow at Tiber, one of which got him in the shoulder. Tiber conjured a sword as the Werewolf, Farkas, gained on him. Tiber clopped off his arms and legs in sweeping strokes. The head of the wolf howled in pain as its body squirmed on the ground.

_What's up, dog?_

A kick sent Tiber flying into the snow. He looked up. Aela was slamming her dagger at him. He grabbed her wrist with both his arms but she used her other hand to force it down on him, scratching his immaculate gold and silver chainmail. Tiber's snake tail hissed, lunging at the Companion. She kicked it aside with a knee-block and pounded Tiber's cheek, a tooth flying out with a squirt of blood. A knee went up his chin, she brought his head down upon her leg next. A foot to his stomach.

_I am a god_ , he reminded himself. _No mortal can match me._

Tiber leaped at her like Dagon. Swinging around her neck, behind her and knocking her into the dirt. She gagged as he choked the life out of her and struggled to escape, he pulled on her neck, she slumped, dead or passed out.

The Werewolf, Farkas howled, tears pouring from his blackened eyes as Tiber lowered himself over her body, sniffing her ears.

_It is too dominant like Dibella. It had to be put down otherwise achieving relief would be impossible._ He undid his greaves...

The male Werewolf howled a sound that sounded an awful lot like, "why!?"

He turned to smile at her dying pet, his reddish horns glistening under the sun. _Because I like it._ As he turned back to face Aela, he noticed her slightly haired, muscled arms that resembled Dibella's. _This woman is a werewolf_ , he finalized. _I never liked Hircine anyways._ Tiber pretended Aela was Dibella, since her face was in the snow. He used his knife to cut her hair short to make it easier to immerse himself. _A small amount of revenge on the wench that thinks herself greater than I._ He hugged her back, his nose in her auburn hair. _Now, how do I open her armor?_

An elbow rammed his nose. Tiber shot back as Aela jumped forward. "Thanks for the haircut." She glanced at her dying companions. "I'm sorry, shield-brothers." Tiber sunk into the snow as she fired an arrow that landed between his legs. "See ya, chump." She transformed into a female Werewolf and sprint off down the forested hillside.

_I'm going to hire two courtesans soon as possible. What a tease. Damn slut._

Tiber laid down and dealt with his _issue_ himself. After a considerable measure of time, he was drained and exhausted. He lied against the fluff as the sun set, basking the countryside in orange hues. Farkas had died about an hour ago, Vilkas was gone too, his face pale from the amount of his blood staining the ice. Tiber secured his trousers and greaves back on, tightening them around his waist.

His eyelids drooped, his being sunk into the fluffy snowy goodness of it all...

"Can we please get some food now, Ancano? We've been at this for hours and almost died twice," a snobbish whining woke him; he wasn't sure how much later. Though judging by the stars and glistening aurora of the bright, blue nebula, it was safe to say it was night.

_I forget sometimes how truly beautiful this land is._

Tiber pushed himself upright. The aisle of free space stenched of gore and decaying flesh. He heard half crawling noises shuffling in the pale country ahead of him.

"Silence, Pierre!" Announced an elf in a Thalmor uniform. "We're going to find Stesha and Idrasa and bring them to justice."

"Why are you so adamant about this?! They're probably both dead!" The one named Pierre shook wildly.

The white-skinned altmer was conversing with a young tan breton.

"I've told you a hundred times, he's probably DEAD." Pierre dragged his feet through the snow.

"What the hell is that?" Ancano looked right at Tiber and drew his spells. "A demon?! It killed those people!"

Tiber shot upright, his snake-tail preparing to attack. But then they heard something more...

"What's going on here?" The elf directed his attention to something behind Tiber.

"I'd like to know the same thing," said a gruff cyrodillic accent.

The next thing he saw was Ancano and Pierre fall to the ground. Instinctively, Tiber slammed himself into the flakes as a dart flew over him. He faked being passed out.

"Arrest all of them," announced an imperial captain with the same short undercut as Tiber, though the cyrodill's was grey not dark-brown.

"Yes, General Tullius!"

A group of the Empire's soldiers stomped past, grabbing the fainted bodies. A woman in her forties, which was the same age-appearance as Tiber's mortal form, took ahold of him with a nord youth.

"By the gods, Rikke, I think this one is a daedra! Look at its horns and tail!" Said the youth. "From the looks of it, he must've killed these people."

"Those are the Companions, Hadvar," Rikke declared. "Look at their armor. Their Harbinger, Kodlak will be heartbroken."

"Ones a wolf..." Hadvar stuttered, pointing to Farkas' open forum.

"Sick animal," Rikke spit in Tiber's face. The spit was warm and trickled into his mouth where he licked it up. "You'll be executed along with any complicit in this if I have a say about it."

_I'm too exhausted and outnumbered to silence you for your insubordination._ He continued to play possum. _You insult a messiah._

From the corner of Tiber's eye he spotted a different unconscious breton. He couldn't tell what gender this one was because its lengthy mane swooped and swayed down over its head and frontside as two soldiers on either side of the manmer man-handled it into the pile-up of bodies.

_Something weirdly familiar about this kid._

"So, we've got a Thalmor deserter, another bloody breton, and a daedra," annunciated Tullius. "Let's load them up on the cart and take them to Old Fort. We'll keep them in the prisons until we can figure out who's too blame for this mess."

_I'm too tired to escape. I'll lose against all of them. It'll just be easier to lie low for now. As a mortal, I'm not as powerful as I was as a god._

**~ § ó § ò § ~**

**A/N: The cities are walled because monsters roam outside, kind of like Attack on Titan. Tiber I just realized is literally "The Quiet Kid" everyone's afraid of.**

**Review, and I'll mention you!**

Chapter 8: Messiah Complex


	9. Stesha Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We all need a vice.

**Chapter 9: Stesha Alone**

**A/N: So, remember Bleak Falls Barrow and many of those dungeon type locations don't exist in this story. Skyrim is mostly barren and all of it is snowy. The cities of Markarth and Solitude also do not exist, their concepts have somewhat been combined and merged with my own ideas into one giant city; Nordenbjörg. (Which I'll showcase in later chapters). Warning: This is my diss track chapter, calling out a lot of things in this, but it won’t be the norm usually.**

**~ § ó § ò § ~**

Stesha woke with a judder, falling to the cold, stone floor. He wiped his brow and struggled upwards onto the makeshift cot he had been laid upon.

Stesha kept rubbing his forehead and surveyed his surroundings, he found himself in a curious location. "Why do I even bother.”

A roomy but simultaneously cozy cobbled dungeon with various bookshelves, a celled door, a few goat-horned candles acting as braziers to light up the dark area and a golden statute of Dibella by a table near the exit. He noticed he still had his fur armor on as well as his satchel with his notebook, currency, and toy doll.

Not one sound echoed around him. Not one. He was as alone outside in the world as he was in his head.

_Maybe I can just sleep here and never wake up. Then as the embers glow when the world crawls to an agonizing halt, I'll be gone._

He laughed out loud, a high pitched lark uncharacteristic of himself. It cackled and bounced off the corners of the room, rebounding at his eardrums as uncertainty weaved its way into the crannies of his mind, stitching doubt into the deepest reaches of his conscience. The parts of himself that he feared, the ones he hid.

The laughter stopped abruptly and he shuddered intensely, cowering into himself.

_There is no light at the end of the tunnel._

He laid sideways on the bedroll. Long tears swelled up and drizzled down his mug. Tears that came out like rivers, as if he had been suppressing them all his life. He sat upright with a start, falling to his knees and pounded the boondies with his fists until his knuckles bled red. Stesha's teeth chattered and he screamed at the cobblestones, shouting into the unforgiving bitterness. The more he stared at it, the more it stared back, illusions painting his vision that dripped with water which coated his lashes, long enough to brush his cheeks when opened fully.

_Every conversation. Every book. Every friendship. Everything means nothing. It’s all a front. Everyone is hiding from the bitter reality. Some like me hide under drugs; some choose romance, others behind their fairytales and plays, some use politics, even religion, philosophy, or science. None of it means anything in end. None of it. We will all die and mean nothing. Why would we? Our pseudo-intelligence has deluded us into thinking we matter._

He hunched into himself on the floor, his mouth kissing his knees in foetal position.

_My life doesn't matter among millions of others who live, die, and repeat the cycle in order to keep making more people who fill those ordained roles of society until eventually it collapses or progresses. We procreate so we can go on procreating._

Morbidity was his only comfort now. It wrapped around his body in a heartfelt hug, looping its cynicism over his shoulders. _Even if I kill myself, my life was still a meaningless shit stain that didn't amount to anything._ He curled more-so in fetal positioning, crawling his legs toward his chest _,_ closing his eyes. _I just want to not exist. Let me end._ He daydreamed of silky white grass, a beautiful field inside a tundra and a nebulae purple night sky.

Stesha looked up and saw the small golden statue of the goddess, Dibella. Its curves with water sashaying around her under a flower.

"I can’t stand myself."

Stesha picked himself up and trudged begrudgingly over to Dibella. _Goddess of beauty. She would never help me. No woman could. No man. No one._ He turned away from her and saw a single book resting on a tattered, wood shelf. He picked it up and paged through it, taking a seat on a stepping-stone.

**_The Tale of Talos_ **

_By Jerald of Whoria,_ _A true Nord, a real manly-man, famed monster-hunter, and part-time booty-plunderer!_

_Edited by Xanei Crimons_

_Talos Stormcrown was born in Atmora, a true, hearty, and honourable atmoran warrior. His hair more golden and his beard more burly than any nord today! As tall and strong as they come, upholding unmatched moral value. He traveled to Skyrim where he learned war tactics and teamed up with Cuhlecain Sifr to take over the Colovian Estates._

_It was then our dear saviour, Talos learned he was Dragonborn and had the ability to shout! He traveled to the Greybeards who told him he was destined to unite Tamriel by the Divines themselves!_

_General Talos conquered Cyrodill and soon his dear friend, Cuhlecain was crowned Emperor. Though most unfortunately a breton nightblade attacked and killed Cuhlecain and slit our greatest hero's throat, also burning down the tower in the process. Nevertheless, Talos was crowned the new Emperor under the name, Tiber Septim, and he adopted a child in good faith named Barenziah Helseth! He captured all of the provinces in quick succession and all bent their knee to him._

_The Third Era began under his rule and peace unlike ever before harkened upon Tamriel. Emperor Septim lived until 108, the longest living man in recorded history (take that bretons!). On the day he died, the entire world wept and the gods raised him to the highest place in Aetherius, beating even mighty, heroic Shor in valor! It is even said no man has bed as many women as Tiber Septim. Women would practically throw themselves at him! Even the whore-goddess, Dibella herself surely came down from the heavens to try a piece of him out for herself! It is stated forty women invaded his palace in Skyrim and he bed all of them in one night! Though, I, Jerald the Witcher, intend to challenge Septim there!_

_His dragon-bloodline continued until Martin Septim sacrificed himself and the Amulet of Kings was destroyed. Now, the elves wish to ban worship of our beloved hero! I say, never! For as long as there are nords in Skyrim, Talos lives in us all!_

_Editor’s Note: The author of this book has been incarcerated since he accidentally outed himself as a rapist thanks to his use of the term, ‘booty-plunderer’ as a double-entendre._

Stesha tossed the old tome roughly aside, lighting it aflame with an angry spell and knocking his knuckles into a wooden pole so hard that he could see the bone beneath the skin of his hand. "Nords are so dim wittingly blind and biased. They only like him because he’s a man who became a god,” Stesha exclaimed furiously, shaking his head. “Men these days, no confidence in their sexuality or masculinity whatsoever. Have to crowd themselves behind dozens of women and act all tough just to hide the fact that deep down they’re a bunch of wusses, probably closeted-gay as well.” That made him snicker a bit. “So goddamn insecure they gotta have sex with ten women to compensate for how weak they feel inside. Bragging about it because nothing else matters in their life. How utterly pitiable men like Tiber Septim and this Geralt are.”

_I don't get it. I genuinely don't._ He pressed two hands against his forehead. _What's so appealing about a promiscuous man? How does having sex with so many women make you worthy of praise??? Can't count how many books I've read where the male hero is also a whore but just referred to as "ladies man". And then the opposite is true for women. The more innocent she is; the more desirable._ Stesha keeled over and threw up onto the flagstones. _No wonder suicide is a thing, when you live in a world with deluded morals and double standards. No wonder there’s so many involuntary celibates who place sex and losing their virginity on some elevated pedestal._

“I suppose that explains why female virginity is so prized. Some men feel so incompetent because they can’t get laid, so putting down women who do have sex is the easiest way to feel better about themselves.” Stesha chafed his teeth together. "An odd world that values a man by how much he can exploit his reproductive system." Stesha spit. "Shows how materialistic and petty humanity is."

_I suppose everybody has to find some meaningless bullshit to make life pass by, even misogynists. Hope all that pointless sex with random women saves you from the grave, hypocritical assholes._

He rose and strode toward the door. He turned an eye toward Dibella one last time. _This is so stupid._ He shuffled his hair.

"Can you help me?" He felt idiotic even saying it.

The shining statute said nothing, only continued to glisten away in the dimness of the celled expanse.

_Why would she help me? I've never actually prayed to her before._

He turned away, kicked the exit out of frustration, to his combined surprise, and delight it croaked open. He snapped his head around at the statue, for a second he thought it had winked at him but he wasn't sure, his eyes weren't properly adjusted to the darkness.

_I guess the guards forgot to lock it._

Then he heard a voice in his mind that definitely wasn't his. The speech of a grown woman, _you ask what the point to this cycle of life is, mortal? The point is free will. Free will to choose to be with the gods in everlasting eternity, or not._

Stesha surged back, shocked. But, her divine presence had left. "Thanks," he muttered but he was sure she didn't hear it.

_What makes her think I want to be with the gods in everlasting whatever she said? Fuck that._

Stesha strolled out into the abandoned four-square that came into view ahead of him. There was no way out of his cell other than jumping down a terraced fall that dropped into a bright pool below. Stesha could see three other doors, presumably holding prisoners of their own on each corner of the four-squared room at the corresponding ends of the balustrade.

"Mmm... First time?" Stesha shifted and picked up two prisoners with his eyes that were locked in a granite billet behind a barred opening. The part that shocked him was that there was no exit or entrance to their cell, just this one window he was seeing them through. One incarcerated man was a redguard with smooth chocolate skin, the other a dunmer, nattering to himself in a corner. "Guards here are horrible; anyone who isn't a nord is fair game for their bullying." The Hammerfell-born's face drew into a frown.

"Isn't Jarl Tullius an Imperial?" Stesha undid a knot in his hair. "Do you want help?"

The Redguard denunciated, "don't bother son, there's no way in or out. They bricked us in here, you see? Just get out while you can. But beware the higher levels, that's where they keep the supermax-asylum, where the _worst_ of the worst scum on Nirn reside behind a firewall. No way escaping from there. Failsafe to burn everyone in there if anything suspicious is triggered. Go downstairs, the lower holding cells are no worse than your average castle dungeon, you can make it out from there."

"Who's locked upstairs?" Stesha's curiosity did somersaults inside.

_With that level of security, why not just execute them?_

"Oh boy, here we go again. They've got the likes of Valund Stone-Crowe, Mercer Frey, Astrid Goldilocks, Harkon Volkihar, Heimskr the Heretic, Delphine Belle, _Mikhael Karkuxor_ just transferred from Daggerfall, Godd Howe, Emil Pagliarulo, some serial rapist called Jerald of Whoria, Zeus Olym _puss_ , Rand al'Whore, Achilles Odysseus – another rapist, Harvey Winestone, Camel Werks, Fuppet Mudge, Zaric Zhakaron, Reiner Zeke, Beowulf Silverhand, a gang called _Red-It_ , and then Cicero Prometheus locked away up there," the man explained. "Although personally I consider Cicero a hero."

"Prometheus? Tullius' last name is Prometheus," Stesha pointed out.

"Cicero is his cousin. He was the man who challenged the omnipotence of the Daedric Princes. Nearly blew up the city in the process". The Alik’r warrior coughed into his fist. "I'm Kematu Iman. I was locked away without a trial. Caught me trying to sneak into Skyrim."

"Any plans to escape?" Stesha examined the Alik'r's fringe of reddish-brown mohawk atop an angular face and curved jawline.

"Wood Elf lycanthrope by the name Malborn down in the vaults, uh _securing_ my release just now. Got super long hair that one, can't miss him." Kematu's sapphires shined unmistakably.

_Hmm._

"I'm Stesha Jade by the way. Fellow illegal border crosser."

"Looks like we've got something in common then, seeing as neither of us are from this frozen wasteland," rejoined Kematu. "Oh the irony! Nords praise Talos as the mightiest among them, yet there is irrefutable proof that Tiber Septim was a breton, not a nord!"

_Even sharing a race with that whore Septim, is enough of a disgrace._

"Kematu, who captured all those max-level security prisoners by the way?" Stesha's frons knit together.

Kematu sniffed the air. "They say there's a warrior called V who's been bleeding this land dry of its corporate corruption. He probably captured most of them."

Kematu was shoved aside by his dark elf cellmate. "Pale skin, snotty expression. You're a breton! The masters of magicka, right? Hmph. Nothing but a bunch of stuck-up snobs with cheap parlor tricks! -- Go ahead, try your magicka in here. Let's see you make those bars disappear. No? What's the matter? Not so powerful now, are you breton?"

"I was never powerful to begin with but okay." Stesha studied the dunmer carefully. Kematu was lying on his side, clutching his abdomen.

_They aren't feeding these prisoners, are they? Guards probably are racist._

"You're not leaving this prison until they throw your body in the lake. Oh that's right! You're going to die in here, breton! You're going to die!" He taunted. "Hey, you hear that? The guards are coming... for you! He he he he he!"

"What's your name?" Stesha requested.

"Taron Dreth, descendant of the noble Valen Dreth!" Stesha grabbed Taron's fingers through the bars and tried to break them but Taron pulled him forward, Stesha's head smacking against the wall. "You'll die in here, briton! DIE!"

"Let go!" Stesha tried to wrench himself free from Taron's ironclad grip.

"If you say so!" Taron released him and Stesha flew and hit the wall, his vision going dizzy, seeing multiple Tarons ahead of him hooting victoriously.

Kematu discombobulated Taron with a kick to his stomach. "Run, Stesha! Get out! Go!"

As Stesha approached the posts, he saw another man through a cell, this one in a strait jacket and tied to a chair. "Everything's for sale, my friend! EVERYTHING! If I had a sister, I'd sell her in a second! WELCOME TO BELETHOR'S GENERAL GOODS! WELCOME INDEED! Me and you are the only sane ones."

Stesha ignored him and loomed over the pit.

"Do come back."

He shrugged and hopped over the fence, one arm on the wooden surface. He fell, splashing into the luminescent liquid. He swum down and through glowing passages dotted with lit tendrils and magical mushrooms. Stesha could see mermaids and mermen patrolling the underwater hallways as he came out into a clearing after rounding a bend, narrowly missing one's tail.

_They're probably security. I should avoid them._

Stesha pushed up for air and inhaled as much as he could, swiping his wet hair out of his sight and trying to determine where to swim next. His satchel still bundled to his waist via a strap that went over his delt. He chose a room that swirled like a whirlpool, sucking him in and swooshing against the coral walls. In he went, water flooding all around him, then it spewed him out inside an indoor waterfall, flying down Akatosh knows how many feet until colliding with more of the divine's ale, waterways that veered left and right until finally he washed up on the banks of a stone scope, coughing violently and battering liquid out his ears.

He put his forehead against the cold stone flooring, breathing to retain some sense of normalcy.

“FUCK.” He smashed a chair into the neighboring hedge.

He crawled out onto land and silently breathed as best he could, trailing down the dungeon, water dripping from his furs. He kept going until he saw two nordic guards stationed at the far end of the hall, conversing in low tones over flickering candles. The flames cast eerie shadows over the walls and Stesha made a descent to his right past some brick and mortar and through a small hole in the wall that exited out into some dusty canvas.

_How big is this place?_

A hand covered his mouth and he was out after a few seconds without oxygen, having been previously drained from the waterway and his resentment expulsion.

_Dragon bones. Tasty bones..._

**~ § ó § ò § ~**

**A/N: Please leave a review.**

Chapter 9: Stesha Alone


	10. Boadicea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is messy.

**Chapter 10: Boadicea**

**A/N: Shorter chapter than normal, it was difficult to pen because intimate scenes give me a brain ache. Please don’t hate me for this. Sexual content warning. Skip down a few paragraphs if you want, I wouldn’t blame you.**

**~ § ó § ò § ~**

Stendarr lift her against the limestone mottling of the giant bath. Water flowed everywhere around them in strawberry scents. Crystalline and white with pristine silver-tapped faucets cascading liquid in, steam and bubbles arising everywhere, clouding them in a foggy tub.

Dibella tightened her legs around her new partner as he slowly slid himself inside her. She could feel his pulsing veins glide along her inner walls, towards her center, gripping to her innards. She moaned into his neck as he drove in and out of her, the water sloshing over them from above. He throbbed and knotted within her as she clung onto him. Dibella looked into Stendarr's dark almond-toned eyes, kissing him, closing her eyes and lashing her tongue with his, locking her arms around his thick neck. Her eyelashes brushed him as she let her tongue tangle into his mouth, tying with his. The bump and grooves of his massive back muscles felt like ecstasy against her touch. She let her hand slip to squeeze his tight glutes.

_I want all of him._ Her hand painted across his strong thighs and lower abs.

"You're not allowed to stop until I say so," she breathed into his ear as he pushed deeper into her, nailing her to the wall. "Stendarr!" She wailed at that, cupping a hand over his shorthaired scalp as he nibbled on her throat, massaging a calloused palm on her breast, rotating the nipple around his thumb.

Dibella was having trouble keeping her eyes straight. _He's so good._ She hazed, biting her lip, letting her fingernails dig into his back.

"Yes," she moaned unapologetically. "There's a good boy."

"Nobody but I can pleasure you like this." Stendarr took her areola into his mouth, slightly sucking on it. The hairs of his thick beard scratched the underside, which only increased her pleasure.

"Haha, I beg to differ," she gasped, swindling a hand over his crown. "Maybe," she groaned in joy, thrusting back at him, "we should invite Reymon and Sanguine, and you three can compete to see who does the best?"

Stendarr grunted, clasping her backside and pressing harder into her, just as she both wanted and expected. _So simpleminded and gullible._

Dibella gyrated on him, planting herself firmly and deeper as he probed more into her. She smiled when he quaked against her, throttling the entirety of his item inside her as she let out a satisfied yelp. "Keep it there!" She pulled his forehead against hers. "Don't move." She teased a few fingers against his thin lips. Sitting in her bliss, savouring the delicious waves of delight that rippled throughout her being. She was, for a brief moment, truly and utterly joyful. It didn't hurt that Stendarr was quite "gifted”.

Now it was Stendarr's turn to salivate as she bucked up and down over his prickly manhood. _Abstinence, what a joke._ He plunged his whole body against hers, the hairs on his chest and stomach spiking against her abs and breasts. She held his hips as he emptied out inside her. The warmth of his seed eliciting shivers in them both.

"You can't get pregnant, right?" He asked stupidly.

"Nope." Dibella closed her eyes, licking her lips and smiling so wide at the feeling of him deep inside her. She seized his mouth once more with her own, conveying as much of her gratitude as possible.

Stendarr eventually let go of her, pulling himself out. "I'm spent. We've been at this for an hour and you're still not done?" He in took deep breaths. "I think I'm out of fuel." He gasped.

Dibella cupped his bearded chin. "Never mind, you did well enough. Though normally, I prefer being the one in control."

He kissed her on the cheek. "I'll say that was the best sex I've ever had. Although," he breathed liberally, "you're probably the horniest girl I've ever been with, and the hardest one to please too. You're like a female Tiber; _sure_ he isn't your soulmate?" Stendarr chuckled with a pointed look.

_Bite off more than you could chew?_

"See, us women with experience know how to keep a man happy." Dibella squeezed his muscles. "You should shave all this body hair. Smooth skinned is always better for men. Most women prefer that."

"No way, I'm not emasculating myself like that," Stendarr ruffed. "You've got some light bits on your forearms too, and let's not forget that little trimmed arrow you know where..."

"Ugh, fine. Yours is just so copious and unappealing. Even Tiber was hairless." Dibella positioned herself on the pool ledge. "Let's wash up and get out."

After they finished their _escapade_ and changed, Dibella began meditating to herself when Stendarr left to go speak to Tsun about something. She cleared her mind, imagining two bars pushing all the intrusive thoughts out, and focused on her breaths as they entered, holding them, and slowly exhaling.

An unfamiliar boyish intonation rang inside her head once more, _my life doesn't matter among millions of others who live, die, and repeat the cycle in order to keep making more people who fill those ordained roles of society until eventually it collapses or progresses. We procreate so we can go on procreating._

Dibella was shook out of her reverie. "Hello? Who's there?" Upon closer inspection, nothing seemed out of place in her boudoir. Burgundy-velvet curtains, reflecting off the golden fastenings were drawn over the windows and the cozy-carpeted area was pleasantly shady.

_Who just spoke inside my head... it wasn't Saadia, it sounded nothing like her. It broadcasted like a boy-child._

Dibella dilated her senses and traced the echo that lingered there, chasing the voice and where it came from... she saw a blurry prison cell, a frail figure, a bit shorter than her, standing in the doorway, black-brown curtains hanging from his or her head. It was very vague and hard to make out like an abstract oil painting.

_"Can you help me?"_ He prayed to her statue in passing as it sat in the corner.

_He wants me to unlock his cell door..._

Dibella shifted her gaze away from the blurred outline of the adolescent and onto the door. It was already unlocked; the guards of the prison had likely forgotten to seal it. The juvenile delinquent kicked it open and stumbled out. Dibella deepened her connection to him and spoke into his mind; _you ask what the point to this cycle of life is, mortal? The point is free will. Free will to choose to be with the gods in everlasting eternity, or not._ The link broke and she found herself back inside her body.

_That's never happened before. At least not like that. Could that have been the Dragonborn? -- It matters not, I am with Stendarr now. He is more sufficient for a partner than an incompetent idiot who gets himself stuck in prison._

She stood up, shaking her head, forcing thoughts of her _soulmate_ from her psyche.

_Idiocy is highly unattractive._

Dibella walked over to the dresser and picked up the glass pitcher, pouring herself a tall glass of water. She paused before sipping, clenching her jaw and tightening her eyes. _Hold your head high, Dibella, no one can hurt you now._ She drank the life-fluid in one gulp, setting it down and casting an air bubble around herself.

Dibella summoned a stone wall, punching it and breaking it in two. _Training. That'll help clear my head. Afterwards I'll attend to the prayers, healings, and ministering._

She left her room, gliding down the dim hallways aching for the light of the morning sun. Portraits snoozed on each wall and regal runes and carvings were inscribed on both sides.

Eeriness encroached into the depths of her mind as the shadows waxed and waned. Dibella swallowed, each shade reminding her of Lorkhan. _Why does this whole business with Tiber feel like it's going to spiral into disaster? Now that he's finally been exposed after eras of guesswork and fear. It's like we've opened a canister of snakes that not going down without a fight._

_But Tiber's always been clever and smart. He conquered all of Tamriel, created the materialistic world -- he'll have unforeseen tricks up his sleeve. I'm just scared what those artifices might be... and what vulnerabilities he'll choose to exploit._

_At least he's been outed. The Evil One. The very being every child fears but doesn't know what. Deep down, he is the personification of the worst of us; Lorkhan, the Devil._ _And those Shezarrines of his..._ Dibella exhaled fruitfully. _I cannot imagine a worse fate than being an incarnation of someone, something so vile and wretched. To have little to no free will, following the commands of someone who you'll one day be resorbed into. No afterlife. Nothing. What a curse._

_But there hasn't been a Shezarrine since Tiber Septim, if my calculations are correct._

"Dibella."

A fragile, pale-skinned Breton stood in her way. Sibyl Boadicea Jade. A rabbit-faced woman with cascading hair that couldn't decide if it wanted to be brown or black. She had two front buck teeth and big, fidgety ears.

"Yes, Boadicea?" Dibella smiled at her. _What now?_

The woman fluttered her thick lashes, blushing meekly. "I-I was just wonderin', if you didn't mind course."

"Spit it out." Dibella curled her finger.

"Well, I was told by uhm, Akatosh that you'd be going to Nirn. I was just curious, if you run into my family there -- if it wasn't an issue, would it perhaps be possible if you could look after them...?" The lady studied her shoes, swallowing thickly.

Dibella let go of a breath, "no promises but if I run into them, I'll see what I can do."

Dibella made her way into the training gymnasium; slugging a glance at the contents full of mostly punching cotton, manikins for target practice, weapons, a forge, weights for lifting, a pool in the far side, a track around the circumference, ropes to pull on, and more. -- She commanded the wood nymphs in the corners to sing a tune for her as she grabbed an array of shurikens. She struck them in quick succession at the dummies situated at the end of the room, each throwing star finding its mark in the center of the stuffed skulls. Dibella picked up a bow and arrow and repeated her feat, the arrows split in half as they landed exactly on the shuriken.

She trained for an hour, or two, or three -- she lost track of time once she was in the zone. The punching bag was bruised and the stuffing was oozing out as she landed a roundhouse kick on it, breaking it off the chain and sending it to the floor. She scuffed her fist on her chest, blowing the after burn that emanated from her fingers.

_Time to go run, and maybe practice that shout Akatosh taught me._

Dibella did several handstands over to the path, landing on her feet and setting off at an easy pace. She slowly sped up, passing a group of young boys who stopped to fawn over her. Ignoring them, she sprinted down the track, overtaking several other runners.

_Here goes nothing._ " _WULD NAH KEST!_ "

She was gunning faster than she ever had, clenching her fists as her surroundings warped past her. It felt amazing. She thought of Tiber's slick face and crushing it into pieces, pounding the pavement harder, rounding a bend. Faster, faster, she had to catch him. _Rip his eyes from his sockets._

Ahead of her, she summoned a statue in his design, increased her pace rapidly and spun in the air, hurling a bolt of lightning that charred Tiber’s whole structure, ending with her fist knocking the fake Tiber's head clean off. Dibella reeled back her paw, consuming a lungful of air through her nose.

_I could kill the whole world with this rage. But I'll settle for killing him and anyone who chooses to follow him. Every bone, ligament, tendon, I'll shred them all._ The tips of her lips tugged cruelly. _He **will** regret hurting me._

"Hey, Mrs. Dibella!" Cried the teenage boys who had jogged up to her; an Akaviri human, Imperial, and Nede. "That was really cool what you did there?"

"You boys staying out of trouble?" Dibella vanished the rubble and healed her hand with the snap of her finger.

"Yeah, uhm, can we feel your muscles?" One asked shyly.

Dibella’s eyes expanded. "Uhh... sure..?" She flexed her bicep.

_Well, this is certainly odd._

Each of them poked it or lightly cupped it, giggling and stepping away.

_I should go eat, visit the sisters, then see what Akatosh wanted._

**~ § ó § ò § ~**

**A/N: If you have time, please leave some critique or feedback.**

Chapter 10: Boadicea


End file.
